


Ring of Fire

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The royal family of Erebor arrives in Ered Luin and Thorin takes a job at the Reader's family forge.





	1. Chapter 1

The market square was bustling as you set out a row of tarts along the counter of your stall, the awning above flapping gently with the summer breeze. Your sister, Raina leaned against the post next to you, gazing into the crowd with latent interest. Ever the gossip, she reveled in market days and the opportunity to savour the rumours swirling among the townsfolk of Ered Luin. Despite the staunch character of the dwarven race, many could not help wagging their tongues about the latest histrionics in the lives of their neighbours.

As of late, the entirety of the Blue Mountains had been bedlam with the arrival of their dispossessed Erebor cousins. Since news of Smaug’s invasion upon the Mountain, groups of road-wearied and grieving dwarves had streamed into Ered Luin with only the clothes upon their back. Abiding the hospitality of their race, those native to the western range welcomed their distant kin with open arms though the resettlement had caused quite the furor.

The last of the displaced had trickled in over the last days, only further intensifying the rumour mill. Your attention was drawn from your blind stare across the cobbled street to your sister who chattered furiously into Pia’s ear. The two were never far from each other on market days to the chagrin of you and Pia’s family. You neared as you crossed your arms and cleared your throat tersely.

“Oh, hello, Y/N,” Pia looked over without shame, her cheeks glowing with scandal, “I was just telling Raina–”

“I’ve told you several times over, I haven’t a care for your blather, Pia,” You always sounded too much like your mother when dealing with the boisterous dwarrowdams, “We’ve enough melodrama without your naïve chittering.”

“Please, Y/N,” She waved away your irritation, “Even you’d have an ear for the latest arrivals in Ered Luin,” She glanced around cautiously before leaning towards you, “Anyways, as I was about to say, I just told Raina the very same, but last night, just after midnight, Bennit, the innkeep just beyond the gates of town, says the king of Erebor, Thrain, finally arrived,” Her lips curved in a wicked grin, “As we all know, his daughter has already settled beyond Tiller’s Lane…”

“Mahal, Pia, does your tongue ever still for more than a second?” You challenged with a huff, “I have tarts to sell and little time for such nonsense. Same with Raina,” You sent an admonishing glare towards your sister, “Who has wasted entirely too much time listening to your slander.”

“Oh, but I’ve not finished,” She insisted and lowered her voice further, “His son, Thorin, accompanied him, among other dwarves. Sons of Fundin, I hear. But I suppose they’ve joined the sister at Tiller’s and–”

“Wasn’t there another brother?” You failed to rein in the curiosity she had sparked within you, “The heir?”

“Frerin, oh yes,” She giggled and it brought back your innate malcontent for the dam, “He’s gone apparently. He left them on the road but no one can say for sure the reason. Perhaps the shame is too much.”

“Shame,” You nearly spat at Pia’s gall, “Well, if a dragon flew in here and burnt that precious little smock of yours,” You alluded to the dainty pink dress she wore despite being a cobbler’s daughter, “I’d like to see you speak so then. You’d be fleeing with bows upon your heels.”

“Hmmp,” She rolled her eyes as Raina elbowed you harshly, “You’ve always been a curmudgeon, Y/N.”

The flurry of the market hushed for a second, enough to draw your attention from the impish girls. The babble of the crowd rose once more without pause and you wondered at what had caused the disturbance. You looked back to Raina and Pia who gazed into the crowd dreamily but you could not trace their eyes to the cause of intrigue. With a shake of your head, you returned to the counter and sold an apple tart to the dwarrowdam perusing your wares.

“Raina,” You called to your sister as her tittering grew louder, “Perhaps Pia should return to her father’s shop and you should return to your duties. We’ll need another apple tart up here and–”

The troublesome pair suppressed a squeal and you looked up to the shadow which appeared before your stall. You peered up at the dark-haired dwarf before you with indifference and turned to retrieve the tart that Raina made no move to fetch. Setting it among the row of pies before the browsing stranger, you stepped back and waited for him to decide on a purchase.

“Pardon me, Miss,” He looked up at you with his sapphire-like eyes, the chatter from the corner hushing as he did, “What is this one?”

He pointed to the darkest of the tarts, one of your less-popular sellers but your personal favourite. The dwarf’s voice was deep and sonorous and the bags beneath his eyes betrayed a sleepless night. You donned your best smile, not so naturally chipper as your sister, and stepped forward to the counter.

“That is our maple walnut tart,” You explained proudly, “I make these ones myself.”

“Oh,” He examined the crust with a pause, “I’ll take two.”

You turned back and grabbed another pie from the cart and placed it before him, wrapping the pair in paper for him to carry. He watched patiently as you tied them up with twine and when you finished, he offered a handful of coins you did not recognize. A few bore the bearded face of a dwarf and the other’s the likeness of a single dark mountain. Gold was gold however and this was much more than the worth of your pies.

“Oh, I think you’ve given me too much,” You picked out a few coins and pushed forward the tarts, “That should do it.”

“No, take it,” He set down the pile of gold before you, “I insist.”

He picked up the pies before you could argue further, donning the ghost of a smile which you could tell came rarely to him. He bowed his head courteously before turning away and you watched his broad shoulders disappear into the crowd. You gathered the coins off the countertop, counting them with a sense of relief. You parents could not be unhappy even if you failed to sell another pie.

“Y/N,” Raina spoke at last in a breathless sigh, “Oh, Mahal, you are utterly clueless.”

“What, Raina?” You asked darkly as you dropped the coins into the purse at your belt, “I know it’s been some time since you’ve sold a pie but it’s not so difficult as it looks.”

“No, Y/N,” Pia interjected with glossy eyes, “Oh, you don’t even know!”

“Pray, tell me what you are on about?” You glowered at her as you pulled forth another maple tart.

“That was him!” Pia squealed, clasping her hands before her chest dramatically, “That was Prince Thorin…of Erebor.”

“Oh,” You lifted a wry eyebrow, “How very droll.”

“Sister, please,” Raina scoffed, “Tell me you’re not overcome at the realization that you just spoke with a prince.”

“I am more overcome that I sold two maple tarts for the price of twelve,” You countered as another customer approached, “Now, send Pia away or I’ll drag her down the street myself.”

With a grumble, the errant cobbler’s daughter slunk away and you sold another apple tart wordlessly. Your thoughts returned to your previous exchange and your sheer ignorance at the presence of royalty. You gave little regard to title in lieu of one’s person, but you could not help but linger on the humility in the dwarf’s demeanour. Keeping your thoughts hidden from your sister, you went on with your business while resisting the curiosity brewing in your mind.

* * *

You awoke in the dull light of the rising sun as it streamed in through the wooden slats of your shudders. Raina laid next to you upon the straw-filled mattress, her snores more raucous than even your father’s. Your body was stiff from a mere three-hours of sleep and you envied the extra hour your sister was allotted. You turned onto your back with a groan, your shoulders achy, and sat up reluctantly, shifting so that your legs hung off the edge and onto the wooded floor.

You rose, pulling on a pair of wide-legged trousers and a thin-woven tunic, tying your hair away from your face. You laced your hide boots and stomped down the crooked stairs, securing your leather apron across your front. Your mother greeted you in the small kitchen, hanging a kettle over the fire before joining you at the table.

“Your father should be up soon,” She assured though you saw the concern deepen the wrinkles around her eyes, “He had a bit of a night but…he should be fine.” She reached across and took your hand in hers, “He’s so lucky to have you, dear.”

“He’d be much luckier with a son,” You squeezed her hand gently, “He’s the only dwarf blessed with two daughters but little good it does him.”

“You do well enough in the forge,” She praised with a weak smile, “He tells me you’re a natural…you’ve sure got the hands of a smith,” She opened your hand, running a thumb along the callouses which roughened your palm.

“I do the work,” You shrugged and pulled your hand away, “But father is old…and sick. You can lie to Raina but you can’t lie to me. When he is gone, it’ll only be us and…I can’t run the forge alone, just as he can’t.”

“He’s not dead yet,” She stood as she spoke quietly, “And I’ll go out and help you myself, if I must.”

“You can’t,” You shook your head as you watched her remove the trembling kettle from the fire, “You’ve too much work as it is.”

“I’ve had more,” She insisted as she set a mug of tea before you, “Now, you hush all this dark talk, it is much too early for your bitterness.”

“I know,” You chuckled at her remonstrance; she had always accused you of being the cynic of the house, “One day at a time.”

“Oi, morning,” Your father emerged in his timely manner, “Daughter,” He leaned down to peck your temple softly, “Wife,” He neared your mother with his stunted gait and embraced her lovingly, a sloppy kiss placed on her lips before she pushed him away with a giggle.

“Oh, sit down, you old mule,” She placed a cup before him as he lowered himself heavily into a chair, “Gemma brought over some peameal, I was just about to fry it up.”

“Oh, I truly do love you, my dear wife,” Your father preened and visibly salivated, “More than the day we married.”

“Another word and it’ll be sprouts and porridge,” She swatted his shoulder with her spatula as she placed a pan on the fire stove, “I swear, I spoil you.”

“You do, dear,” He agreed with a hearty chortle; a reassurance that he was not so frail as you thought, “More than you know.”

You smiled at the scene, nearly forgetting the woe that had only just shrouded your vision. Your mother went about her work with a melodic hum and your father sipped at his tea, bobbing his head to her song. For a moment, you were hopeful that all would be well and you were worrying for naught. Yet, there was that part of you which told you one happy moment could not buy a lifetime.

* * *

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you emerged from the stolid forge, your hair drooping from its bounds. You tugged at the knot in your apron ties and it fell loose across your front as you crossed the yard to the open door of the house. Your mother was in the kitchen as she always was, preparing the evening meal with Raina across from her at the table.

“Anything I can do?” You asked as you approached the table, “I’ve about fifteen minutes.”

“Your father has allowed you a break?” You mother mused, “How kind of him. Please, do not waste it on us. We can handle well enough.”

“I insist,” You took a knife from the block and sat down at the table, picking a carrot from the bunch and began peeling, “He only sent me out because I was apparently too helpful.”

“Hmm, yes,” Your mother looked your over keenly, “I never really considered that to be a flaw.”

“Aye, he’s stubborn as a dwarf,” You kidded and the three of your chuckled, “I swear, it’s the only thing that keeps him going.”

“That and the ale,” Your sister added; she was the youngest and your father had always coddled her.

You continued to skin carrots as your mother and sister carried on, their conversation little more than the repetition of the gossip Raina shared with Pia. Your sister had mentioned the night before your transaction with the prince and you had merely brushed him off as just another customer. It was thus, as you sister returned to the subject of the Erebor royalty, that you tossed the last carrot in the pot and stood, alleging that your time was up.

You left them to their chatter, catching something about how “dashing” the prince was, and you strode back into the yard. The sun was getting lower in the sky and the evening cooler, the sweat under your tunic sending a shiver up your spine. As you neared the forge, you heard your father’s voice and cringed, certain that he was once more talking to himself. Pausing to devise a way to interrupt him, another voice replied, but did nothing to allay your anxieties.

You rounded to the door and pushed it open unceremoniously, “Ada,” You greeted and stopped short at the dark-haired dwarf who was interrupted mid-sentence, “Oh, I’m sorry, have I…”

“It’s alright, Y/N,” You father smiled genially before looking admiringly to Thorin, “You’re just in time.”

“In time?” You squinted at the pair of dwarves; your father looked even older as he stood beside the prince. His grey hair was messy and straggly and the lines in his face deeper by the day. Thorin, in contrast, had a mane untouched by age and stood with squared shoulders and head high, “For what, exactly?”

“Why, Thorin, has offered his services at our forge,” He explained cheerily, “You know I’ve been hesitant to hire a hand, but he _is_ a prince…” He looked meekly to Thorin, “Not that his work isn’t exquisite. Would you look at this, Y/N?”

Your father neared you as he held up the dagger in his hand, the silver flawless and the handle expertly inlaid with carved gems. You could not help but admire the craftsmanship of the weapon. Despite his skill, you were still wary at his offer and wondered if you would be pushed out of the forge in favour of him. Regardless of working in between house and anvil, you enjoyed your smith duties and the time it allowed you with your father.

“And? What did you say?” You crossed your arms defensively.

“Why, I accepted of course,” He answered proudly, “How could I say no to him? Aren’t you happy, dear?” Your father touched your shoulder and you shrugged him off, “You’ll have more than an old man to help you.”

“Or more than a dam to help you, rather,” You spat and Thorin clasped his lips awkwardly at your dismay.

“No, no, dear,” He took you buy the arm, angling you towards the door, “If you would allow us a moment, Thorin,” The prince nodded and your father led you outside, “Y/N,” He turned you back to him, “I am not so deaf as you think me. I heard you and your mother this morning.”

“Ada…” You breathed guiltily, “I–”

“No. no, Y/N, you were right,” He frowned with trembling lips, “One of these days, I’m gonna wake up and not be able to hold a hammer and I can’t expect you to carry that burden.” He reached up to push back a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, “I never meant to hurt you, I only thought–”

“Oh, ada, I’m sorry,” You took his hand and steadied it, “I was…scared. Please, it’s alright. He’s the best you could hope for. It’d be selfish of me to let my own pride get in your way.”

“Thank you, dear,” He leaned over to kiss your cheek, “Now, come on, and try not to look like you’re about to accost the prince.”

You chuckled quietly as he led you back into the forge and Thorin looked up from the  horse shoes you had been forging that day. He set down a heavy iron U and righted his posture, greeting you and your father with a cordial smile. Patiently, he waited for one of you to speak and the elder took the lead.

“My daughter can be a bit…dwarvish,” He teased as he nudged you, “But she could use your help, though not as much as myself. If you’re serious, we’d be glad to take you on immediately,” He explained as you leaned against his anvil, “Now, this is my forge but Y/N is my daughter and that means this is her right. She has as much a say as I do and so she deserves as much as your respect. I don’t care if you’re a prince…”

“Of course, Harkin,” Thorin intoned graciously, “I’d never think of treating her otherwise.” He turned and fingered the horse shoe he had previously been eyeing, “She did this, no?”

You nodded wordlessly and he picked up the shoe, tossing it and catching it in his thick hand. “It’s well-crafted. Good balance. Sturdy.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled.

“Well, then it’s settled,” Your father patted his stomach, “I smell dinner, though, and I’m a dwarf driven by glutton, so I’ll bid you good night before my hunger gets the best of me.”

Your father offered his hand to Thorin and they shook on their deal before your father gave a hurried farewell and fled for the door. He was friendly enough in his manners but could be rather awkward when it came to formalities. You were about issue your own dismissal when Thorin spoke first and kept you from following your father outside.

“The pie was delicious,” He smiled, this time the expression was genuine, “But sadly, it did not last long among my kin.”

“Oh,” You couldn’t help but bask in the compliment, “Well, I’ve a few extra, if you’d like? I mean, you paid for more than two as it is.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” He accepted, “My sister would be overjoyed. She’s got a sweet tooth and we weren’t afforded maple in Erebor.”

“No trouble at all,” You assured him as you turned for the door, “I’ll fetch you one now and you can be home before the moon.”

* * *

Thorin was a good worker. Everyday he arrived just after dawn and after the first day, your mother insisted he join the family for breakfast. She doted on him as if he were the son she’d never had and at times it bothered you. You knew your parents loved you but you would have been more use if you were a dwarf. Even Raina had started rising early so that she could sup with the prince and when he stayed for dinner one night, she had asked him so many questions, he did not linger for dessert.

On the odd day, your father worked alone in the forge alone but with Thorin, you were not so hesitant in helping your mother and sister prepare for market. The next day, you would open your stall as you did every week and so you were to toil away in the kitchen. It was a nice reprieve from the drudgery of the forge.

You awoke and dressed, that day in a plain cotton apron, and slunk down the stairs. Your mother had yet to wake as this was her morning to sleep in and you set up the kettle. The house was quiet but for the muffled clangs of you taking out a pan and gathering the ingredients for breakfast. You chopped some potatoes into fine chunks and seasoned them for a hearty hash, adding more vegetables to the skillet as it began to hiss.

You fetched the pitcher of milk your mother had filled the night before from the pantry but as you emerged, you nearly spilled its contents down your apron. Thorin peeked in through the curtains of the window and smiled as he saw you appear. You placed the jug atop the table and opened the door for him.

“Thorin,” You welcomed him in, “Ever early.”

“My father would be impressed,” He commented as he stayed at your heels, following you to the stove, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, I think I’ve got it,” You answered, he hesitated before stepping away and you listened to the creak of a chair as he sat, “Besides, you’ll have enough work as it is. I won’t be in the forge today.”

“Oh?” His tone was surprised, “May I ask why?”

“Tomorrow’s market day,” You set a lid over the pan before it could spit at you and turned to remove the kettle from the hearth, “There’s lots to be done.” You filled two mugs and sat across from Thorin, pushing one towards him, “Any special requests?”

“Well, you know my preference,” He wrapped his hand around the cup, absorbing the warmth with his palms, “Though, I think my sister may be growing tired of the same tart every night.”

“We do sell more than one flavour,” You offered with a tilt of your head, “But you seem like a creature of habit.”

“Oh, do I?” He raised a thick brow, his blue eye gleaming in the early morning light, “Then I’ll just have to send Dis herself,” He grinned as he sipped his tea, lowering it abruptly as the floorboard groaned from behind you, “Good morning, Lord Harkin.”

“For the last time, I’m no lord,” Your father grumbled as he poured himself tea, groggily sitting down beside you, “Though my daughter is a lady. You remember that, eh?”

“Ada,” You sneered at his implication as you stood, “I think the hash should be done.”

“Mm-hmm,” He eyed you suspiciously before turning his attention to Thorin, “Sure, it is.”

You grabbed a stack of plates from the cupboard and set them on the counter, scooping a pile of hash onto two before placing them before your diners. You turned, keeping your face hidden from Thorin and sent a sharp look towards you father with subtle shake of your head. He merely grinned in return and took a bite of his breakfast, poking you playfully as you stepped away. Your father was surely growing more delusional by the day.

* * *

You watched your father and Thorin leave through the back door, already deep in chatter about the customs of Erebor. Your father was too curious for his own good and the prince was nostalgic for the home he had lost that he spared no detail in his descriptions. You never pressed for tales of the Mountain as you imagined it was bittersweet to speak of it.

You began to fill a bowl with flour and the fixings for pie dough and your sister came barreling down the stairs, disappointed to find you the only one there. “Where’s Thorin?”

“In the forge,” You muttered, “You’re too late, Raina.”

“Mahal, why didn’t you wake me?”

“Honestly, Raina, are you trying to drive him away? Ada needs all the help he can get out there.”

“Sure, that’s what you’d say,” She poured a cup of the now tepid tea, “You see him more than me.”

“You’re more than welcome to try your hand at the anvil, Raina,” You taunted as you kneaded the clump of dough smooth, “It’s never too late to learn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” She huffed, “Here, I’ll do up the dough. You’re much to rough with it.”

“Fine,” You shrugged and wiped your hands on the front of your apron, “I’ll gather some of those blackberries. They look ripe and we’re out of strawberries.”

“As you will,” She waved you away, “It’s better than walnuts.”

You flicked your eyes skyward as you grabbed a basket and made for the door. You sat near the edge of the garden and began to pick the ripe berries along the back. You heard the clasp of the forge shudders unhook and the creak of the hinges as they were pushed outward. You kept at your task, filling the basket to your content and standing with a yawn.

You turned, your eyes meeting Thorin’s through the forge window and he looked down quickly. You couldn’t figure if the colour in his cheeks was from heat of his work or from being caught. Whatever it was, you had more important worries to attend to. In the kitchen, you found your mother awake and nibbling on a plate of hash and your sister rolling out crusts for the tarts.

“Here,” You set down the basket on the counter, “I’ll start on the maple walnut.”

* * *

The next day at market, you could not drag Raina away from Pia as she divulged every move of the prince over the last week. You had lectured them several times and were doing so once more as a figure appeared before your stall. You looked over to find a dam with dark hair and shining azure eyes inspecting the pies along your countertop. You were certain without asking who it was.

“Hello, Miss,” You approached the front of the stall, “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Why, yes,” She tapped her chin with her finger, “My brother has been treating us to maple tarts nearly every night. I thought I’d buy him another but I’d like something for myself…a little more fruity, perhaps.”

“Here is the maple tart,” You pointed to the furthest of the pies, “But we also have apple, blackberry, mixed berry, pear, and peach.”

“Oh, blackberry,” Her eyes rounded, her soft lips curving, “I think I’ll take one of those. Oh, and an apple tart for my father.”

“Certainly, I’ll just wrap those up for you,” You reached back for a sheet of brown paper and some twine, packing up her wares carefully.

“My brother is Thorin. He loves your pies,” She handed over her coins pleasantly, “He’s always been one for sweets but he’s lost all his restraint, I swear,” She trilled with laughter, “I’m Dis and you must be, um, oh, I’m no good with names. But he told me he’s been working at your father’s forge.”

“Y/N, my father’s name is Harkin,” You informed her warmly, “He’s a good worker. Better than both me and my ada. And always early, thank Mahal. We had an apprentice years ago who lasted less than a week for his tardiness.”

“My brother early?” She wondered aloud with another giggle, “Well, he’s always been responsible but never famed for his punctuality.”

“I doubt we’re very far, you’re on Tiller’s–” You paused as you heard chitters from the corner and looked over to find Raina and Pia glaring back at you as they whispered, “Tiller’s Lane, right?”

“Not far, I suppose,” She agreed and glanced over at the gossiping dams darkly, “I should be on my way, but I would appreciate one more favour?”

“Which would be?” You prompted anxiously.

“The maple you use in the pie; syrup, right? Where would I go about buying some of my own?”

“Oh, well, we tap our own trees but I could direct you to another stall,” You looked around the street before you spied the dread building in her blue eyes, “You know what? I’ll send a jug home with Thorin. Free of charge. We have more than we need.”

“Truly?” She brightened as she took the pies in her arms, “Thank you, Y/N. And I shall surely see you next week for more.”

You returned a meek farewell as the buxom dam turned away and swept through the crowd with her pies. You crossed your arms as you looked back to Raina and Pia and snarled audibly, quieting them without a word. Wavering under your wrath, Pia giggled nervously before turning on her heel and disappearing up the street. Raina sighed and glanced away guiltily, searching the crowd for someone to distract herself.

* * *

It had been a long day and as the season had passed by swiftly, the sun began to descend earlier than the night before. You were hunched over your anvil, hammering out the edge of a knife, your back sore and the sweat flowing into your eyes. Your father had retired hours before at your behest and you and Thorin had remained, working in peaceful silence.

You set down the knife in the dimming shadows of the forge, the natural light working against you. You thought about sparking a lantern but you were tired and ready to be done. As it was, you were ahead of schedule in your commissions and another hour made little difference. You figured Thorin would appreciate a spare hour to himself as well and so you relinquished your hammer to anvil.

Absently, as you turned to inform Thorin of your plans, your finger brushed across the stove where you heated the iron and silver and you retracted your hand with a hiss. Cradling the burnt flesh of your hand you inhaled sharply and the prince looked up from his work. He set aside his project and rounded his anvil as concerned darkened his sapphire irises.

“Are you alright?” He tried to peek at your hand without touching you.

“I’m, ugh, fine,” You moaned, the pain bubbling with your flesh, “Oh, how stupid of me.”

“Come on,” He led you to the door, ushering you over to the well on the other side of the garden, “We need to cool it down.”

He used the winch to pull up a pail full of water and balanced it on the edge of the stone work. He took your hand and ladle water over it, fixated on your purpled flesh. The feel of his calloused palm on yours was comforting and you let him drip the cool liquid over it until it the pain lessened to a dull throb.

“I was just going to say,” You took a handkerchief from your tunic, wrapping it delicately across your hand, “That maybe it was time to call it.”

“I think that best,” He smiled as you winced, “Considering.”

“Yeah, considering,” You agreed with a forced chuckle, “Oh, Mahal.”

“Do you have honey?” He seemed more perturbed by your pain than you.

“Of course,” You replied evenly, “I mean, why wouldn’t I?”

“It will soothe the burn,” He explained, gesturing you towards the back door, “I think it wise to do so before it gets to bad.”

You walked through the door, thankful to find the kitchen empty and you fumbled around with one hand for the honey hidden in the pantry. You sat next to Thorin at the table and he took your hand gently, unwrapping it before taking the honey decisively. He spread a glob across your burn, his thick fingers so tender you could not believe they were the same hands that twisted and shaped metal.

“There,” He wrapped your hand once more and rescinded his own as if suddenly remembering where he was, “It should keep out infection, as well.”

“Thank you,” You kept your hand on the table and let your shoulders slump, “I think you’ve earned a piece of pie,” You looked to your wound helplessly, “If only I could…”

“I’ll get it,” He stood and crossed to the counter where the half-eaten apple crumble was left out, “Milk, too?”

“You learn quickly,” You kidded as you listened to him and watched the sunset through the back window, “There shouldn’t be too much work left to you tomorrow. I’ll have market work to do but if you need help.”

“I’ll be fine,” He asserted as he set a plate and cup before you, “You should rest your hand.”

“I guess,” You picked up the fork he handed to you as he took his own seat, “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing,” He grinned and took a bite of his dessert, “Mmm.”

You shook your head as you chewed on the sugary apple and found yourself smiling at the dwarf across from you. Despite the indifference you had sworn against him in the past weeks, you could not help but cherish the moment. The kitchen glowed in the dull light of dusk, casting shadows over the pair of you as you savoured the crumbly delicacy. It nearly made you forget all the other worry which had overtaken the small house in the last months.

* * *

You sat at the kitchen table with your mother and sister piecing together the pies to be baked for the next day. Once more, you found yourself longing for the forge when previously, you had relished your time away. You filled the middle of a crust with apples and spices, weaving dough over in a precise pattern as your fellow bakers chattered on.

“Oh, Y/N, you seem…absent,” Your mother commented and you looked up, shaken from the ritual of crimping crust, “Are you well?”

“Very,” You answered with confusion, “No need to worry for me, maamr.”

“I know what it must be,” She sent a knowing grin to Raina, “Your sister told me about last night.”

“Last night?” You echoed, further perplexed, “What do you mean?”

“You and Thorin,” Raina’s voice was poison, “It seems your whole aloof act is going rather swimmingly.”

“Huh?” Your lips sagged defensively, “You’ve always had a rather creative imagination…and loose tongue.”

“Dear, don’t let your sister bother you,” You mother reached over to touch your wrist, a bandage now covered your burned hand, “A dwarf who takes the time to tend to a dam’s wound’s…well, you know how courting goes.”

“Courting? I don’t think so, maamr.”

“And the pie?” Your mother prodded further, “One kindness can be overlooked, but more than…when your father first set his eyes to me–”

“Enough,” You stood abruptly, the table rocking before you, “I don’t want to hear any more.” You pointed to your simpering sister, “You best learn to control your mouth before I do it for you,” You dropped your finger and inhaled, fixing your posture, “And the both of you would do well to never mention such fancies again. I am not a dam to be sold for a price,” You seethed as you backed away from the table, “I work my way as well as any dwarf…” You neared the door and looked out towards the forge, Thorin just emerging as he wiped sweat from his damp hairline, “We’re low on apples. I’ll check the tree for more.”

You tramped out into the yard, dragging the step ladder to the trunk of the tree as Thorin approached you with a friendly smile. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt clung to his chest beneath his leather apron, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Just fine,” You answered tersely as you tore an apple from the branches, “You?”

“Um,” You felt him staring, trying to decipher you, “I’m well enough,” His eyes bore into you as you eluded them, “Here, let me steady this.”

He stilled the step ladder as it began to wobble beneath your feet. “Thanks,” You uttered shamefully, ruing your harsh manner as you searched for reddened apples, “Don’t worry about me, Thorin. I’m none of your concern.”

* * *

***One Year Later***

You could not say which was more unbearable; the forge or the back yard. The scorching summer sun had not relented for days and whether you were smithing or in the kitchen, you could not shed the constant layer of sweat that coated your body. Even the night did little to cool the air and you found yourself tossing atop your shared straw mattress, though whether it was merely the heat was questionable.

You dipped a hoop glowing orange iron into the vat of tepid water, a hiss of steam blowing into your face. As you returned to your anvil and set down what would be a decorative bangle, you heard the disordered clang of metal and a rush of fabric and hair as the dark figure to your left wavered. You looked over just as your father began to sag to the floor, his face red from heat, and you dropped your hammer to catch him before his head crashed into his anvil.

“Ada!” You whined as you carefully lowered him onto his rear, your arms beneath his as you used your knees to steady him, “Ada!”

His eyes lolled backwards and he gave no response to your pleas. Thorin approached from his other side and touched the side of his softly. The corner of his lip twitched as he glanced over at you, his blue eyes coloured with apprehension. He pushed the grey hair away from your father’s face, his thick beard tangled beneath his chin, and edged his fingers down to feel his pulse.

“It must be the heat,” Thorin explained and you heard the relief in his voice, “Mahal knows I feel a bit weary myself these days.”

“Just the heat?” You asked hopefully, clinging to the motionless Harkin, “Truly?”

“His heart is steady but slowed, his breathing even if not a bit laboured,” He examined your father as he spoke, “All he needs is some rest. And water.”

You exhaled the breath you had been withholding in your fear and Thorin hooked his arms under your father’s as you removed your own. He lifted Harking without much effort, turning him so that he was fully in his grasp, his head reclined lifelessly and his legs dangling loosely. “Get the door, please.”

“Oh, yes,” You stood and kicked yourself into action, holding the heavy wooden door as Thorin angled your father’s body through, “Maamr will be so worried.”

“Let’s do our best not to upset her,” Thorin murmured as he neared the back door, “It is nothing but the heat, remember?”

“The heat, yes,” You began to wonder if he were trying to alleviate your own worries with the diagnosis, “Maamr,” You followed Thorin inside as your mother stood over the stove, turning with a gasp, “Maamr, please, it’s alright. It is just the weather.”

“Oh, Harkin,” She neared and caressed her husband’s cheek, “Get him to the bed, quick.”

“He needs water,” Thorin instructed as he continued forward past your mother’s lingering hand, “A wet cloth across his head and a cup when he awakes and all should be well.” Your mother guided him into her bedroom and he set down Harkin carefully on their thin mattress, “Y/N kept him from worse. She caught him before he could hit his head.”

“Oh, dear,” You mother turned to you and pulled you into an embrace, “Thank you. Oh no, I knew this day would come.”

“Maamr,” You backed away from her, “It is merely the summer heat.”

“Y/N,” She grazed your cheek as she had her husband’s, “You know it is more than that.”

You looked down to hide the welling tears in your eyes, turning your back to the room to wipe away the few stray droplets upon your cheeks. “Remove his apron or he’ll only stay warm,” You ordered over your shoulder, “We must return to the forge. There is much to be done.”

You marched out of the room and through the kitchen, Thorin’s footsteps joining your own as he caught up to you in the back yard. His hand closed around your elbow, halting you, and he turned you back to him. “Y/N,” He uttered pitifully, “There is not so much work that it cannot be done tomorrow.”

“Thorin,” You shook your head, shoving his hand away from your arm, “We’re now short a smith, I think that would suggest otherwise.”

“You should be with him, at least,” He argued, blocking your path to the forge, “I’ll keep on but you should be there when he wakes.”

“He has my mother…and Raina. He always preferred her anyhow.” You sidestepped him, evading another attempt to stop you and stormed into the forge. You took your hammer and looked over the bangle you had only half-finished, ignoring Thorin’s presence as he entered and stood at his own station.

You wanted desperately to smash the silver hoop to pieces and fall to shambles against your anvil. Looking around the forge to find your father no where in sight was unsettling. Thorin’s eyes followed yours and you shifted so that he could not see your face, pretending to focus on the metal before you. You had told him many times he should worry about himself.

* * *

You had forgone market so that you could help Thorin in the forge, your father still relegated to bedrest. Your mother would not so much as let him sit at the table to eat but he seemed in fine spirits with so many doting upon him. Thorin had brought him a keg of ale and a basket of biscuits from Dis. Your mother was feeding him more heartily than usual and your sister rarely left his side as she fretted over his ever breath.

Your sister, however, was forced to leave to work the counter of the family stall and your mother had at last relented in her coddling of your father. With help from Thorin, she had him ride in the cart they used to carry the posts of their stall and they set off to market with their youngest daughter. It had been the prince’s idea as he had advised that Harkin take some fresh air and assure his friends that he was alive and well. It irked you that they heeded him more than you, your worries often ignored for the feigned expertise of the Erebor exile.

You hammered away at another horseshoe, another to add to your mounting stack. Your extra hours in the forge helped you pass the time and avoid dwelling on the health of your father. The only drawback was Thorin’s incessant gazes and concerns over your wellbeing. _How could any worry about you when your father ailed?_

You carelessly smashed your hammer into the horseshoe as you languished in your angry thoughts and the u broke in half with a violent snap. You grunted angrily and tossed your hammer to the floor in your frustration, sweeping the ruined ironwork from your anvil. “Mahal!” You kicked half of the shoe with the toe of your leather boot and lumbered out of the forge, swinging the door forcefully as you did.

Behind you, the door was caught before it could slam into the frame with a clatter and you heard Thorin’s pursuit. You ignored him as you entered the eerily silent house and headed for the stairs to your bedroom. You needed to be alone. You were stopped at the bottom step as Thorin’s hand clung to your wrist and you turned back, ready to cuff him across the chin.

“Y/N,” The kindness in his voice curtailed your anger, “Please, just breathe.”

“No, I don’t want to breathe,” You tried to pull away desperately, “I just want—I want–” He released you and you rammed your fist into the wall, “I don’t know what I want. I just want everything to be as it was.”

You slumped onto the bottom stair, hanging your head in your hands as you fought the urge to sob. You sniffed away your emotion and looked up defiantly, “Please, just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N,” He squatted before you to meet your eye line, “But what I can do,” He took your hand warmly, “Is make you a tea. Can you endure me long enough for that?”

“Y—yes,” You stuttered and let him help you up as he rose, “Thank you.”

“Just sit,” He pulled a chair out before taking the kettle from the counter, “I’ll fetch some water. You just stay here. Please.”

You nodded and sat down heavily, watching him as he retreated to the yard and you clasped your hand before you as you awaited his return. He did not take long and hung the kettle before building the stove fire, all without a word. He took his usual seat at the kitchen table, looking you over.

“I know it’s…difficult,” He began, he brushed back his dampened black hair as he spoke, “Your father is one of the kindest, strongest, wisest dwarves I met, though I am still young, but…I love my father,” Your breath stilled as he had rarely spoken of any kin but his sister, “But he is tainted. As his father was and I shall surely be when my time comes to reclaim our home,” He shied away in a moment of rare vulnerability, “I only wish I had the same time with my father as you’ve had with yours.

“I do not mean to lessen your grief, at all. I only want you to know that I have carried the same burden for many years,” He scratched his beard as he forced himself to meet your gaze, “Working with your father has helped. Your family is so loving, even to me. Why should a prince ask anything of such a humble clan?”

“Thorin,” You uttered, feeling a fool for not considering his own troubles, “I should have—I never…Thank you. For everything, you know? Without you, I don’t think my father would have done so well. Or the rest of us.”

“Please, don’t,” He bit his lip before he continued, “I should be thanking you, Y/N.”

“Hmmp, for what?” You scoffed darkly.

“I would never think fate just in robbing my people of their home. Never,” His eyes glowed a fiery cobalt, “But I can at least thank the stars that I was brought here…and that I met you, of all dwarrow.”

“Thorin…” You couldn’t help a chuckle at his tender words, “You don’t–”

“I mean it, truly I do,” He ignored the kettle as it began to tremble over the fire, “I’m not so adept when it comes to…emotion but, I…this last year, Y/N, I never would have made it if it were not for you. Not your father or your family, but you.” He smiled meekly as he spoke, the glow in his eyes softening, “Sometimes, when you’re in the garden, I watch you and I’ve seen anything more…inspiring.”

“I, uh,” You rubbed your neck, heat rising to your cheeks; you had never expected a confession from this dwarf you had treated so miserably as of late, “I don’t know, um, what to say. I mean, I–”

“You don’t have to say anything, not if you don’t want to,” He blurted as he fidgeted in his seat, “I only wanted you to know. That’s all.”

“Thorin,” You shook your head with an embarrassed smile, “What I was going to say is that…you helped me, too. And I–” The kettle began to whistle and you stood sharply, removing it from the stove with an annoyed grunt, “Look, what I’m trying to say is that, I think, I, um, feel the same?”

“Are you asking me?” He rose with an amused grin, “Because I can’t answer that question for you.”

“Oh, hush, Thorin,” Your hands went to your hips as you dug your heel into the floor nervously, “You know what I mean.”

“That maybe…you love me?” His face broke into a full smile as he beamed at you hopefully, “Just maybe?”

“Just maybe,” You tilted your head as you neared him, standing on your tip toes as you looked up at him. He bent to meet your lips, a shy, swift peck upon them, and he gazed back nervously as your mouth slowly curved in response. “Maybe,” You challenged, lifting a brow daringly.

Narrowing his eyes, Thorin seized your shoulders and pulled you to him, pressing his lips to yours fervently as you giggled at his frustration. His hand tangled in your hair as he held you to him and you couldn’t help but mirror his ardor, his embrace warmer than even the forge.

“Well?” He separated from you with an impassioned breath, your own chest heaving with excitement.

“Yes,” You replied slyly, running a finger along the trim of his thickening beard, “I think I might just.”


	2. Heart of Gold

Raina’s snores kept you awake once more. You laid beside her on your shared mattress but your restlessness was little bother to you. Rather, you were thankful that she slept so noisily. It assured you that she was unaware and had you ready to descend the ladder for your late-night rendezvous. Thorin would be waiting for you in the forge by now and your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.

Slowly, you rolled away from your sister’s slumbering form and set your feet softly on the wooded floors. You stood, careful not to creak as you bent to pull on your cotton slippers and crossed to the ladder, keeping an eye on Raina as you descended the rungs. You met with the floor at last and turned around in the dark, holding your breath as the silence of the house felt ripe to shatter.

You felt slowly along the wall and around the furniture, the chairs, the dining table, counter, until you reached the back door. You pulled it open just enough to slip outside and gently closed it behind you so the hinges gave no wine and the wood no clatter upon the frame. You scurried down the steps and across the grass until you reached the door of the forge, tapping lightly and rhythmically which confirmed your clandestine meeting.

You heard footsteps within and the door clicked open, a pair of blue eyes appearing on the other side as Thorin peered back at you. He opened the door wider as he smiled and ushered you inside into the forge. Anxious that light would betray your assignation to any who may chance to wake, you often spent your nocturnal trysts in the dark.

Thorin took your hand and led you to the blanket he had unfolded across the floor between the anvils and helped you sit in the tight space. He lowered himself beside you with his back against the iron of an anvil and pulled you to him so that your head was against his chest. You stretched your arm across his stomach without a word and listened to heart as it beat, its fury calm to a steady pulse.

“I almost feared you wouldn’t come,” He whispered as his fingers brushed through your hair, caressing your braids with his roughened thumb.

“Raina was quite talkative tonight,” You explained as you nestled closer, “She only just fell asleep.”

“Thank Mahal for that,” His voice was brittle and the beating of his heart stuttered, “I fear I could not wait until tomorrow for us to meet.”

“Oh, and why is that?” You sat up, your hand upon his chest as you turned to gaze at him through the dark, “You’ve new? Bad news?”

“I have news,” He evaded your worry, “Though whether it be good or bad would be left to a matter of opinion.”

“Thorin,” You uttered with foreboding, “What is it?”

“It’s Frerin…he’s returned,” Thorin’s eyes left yours and he stared at the floor, “He would have us fight the Orcs approaching Moria. My father…” He swallowed and looked up at you, his hand running down to your cheek as he stared at you grimly, “I must go. I am a prince and I owe it to our people.”

“You’re going to war?” You went rigid and sprang to your knees, pushing away his hand, “I must go with you.”

“You can’t-”

“It is not unheard of for dwarrowdams to fight,” You insisted, “I am sure many have already enlisted.”

“No,” He stated flatly, “I couldn’t do that to your father. He needs you, you know that. He could never run the forge without both of us. Besides, I cannot put you willingly into the line of harm.”

“And I am to let you go so easily?” You frowned, “How am I to wait here for you knowing you may not return?”

“I promise you, I will,” He took your hand in his, “I would never leave you so cruelly.”

“Thorin, I-” Your voice cracked and you fell back onto your rear, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t either, but it is my duty,” He drew you forward once more, “I love you, Y/N, and I will return to you.”

“You better,” You threatened as you hovered your lips before his, “Promise me, Thorin.”

“Promise,” He vowed before kissing you, his lips longing as he wrapped an arm around you, “And when I return, we will tell your father of our love at last.”

“What?” You tried to pull away once more but he held you to him with a grin, “You can’t be serious?”

“I swear it,” He brushed his nose against yours teasingly, “I would not go on thus forever…and I shall need it to get me through the chaos.”

You knew there was to be no argument and it had always been in the back of your mind that your affair could not remained secret forever. The eventuality, however, had been so distant that it was more a dream than reality. But now, as you were to bid farewell to Thorin for what could be months or even years, you knew the revelation to be imminent.

* * *

Your father watched Thorin leave with as much chagrin as you. You had to withhold yourself from a final embrace as he walked away from the two of you and you turned to find your father looking older than ever. His wrinkles had deepened and the shadows under his eyes darkened. You held in your own sadness and took his hand, turning him away from the departing prince.

“Ada, why don’t you go eat with Maamr,” You coaxed him, “I’ve already eaten and I can handle the forge without you for a while,” He reluctantly walked towards the house as you guided him, “I heard there are even some extra rashers waiting for you.”

“You’re too sweet,” Your father looked to you at last, as if seeing you for the first time, “I though Thorin would…I just didn’t expect him to leave so soon,” He reached up to pull forward a lock of your hair and admire it, loosing it from the low ponytail you wore it in. Often Thorin had done the same, the sight of you with your braids and waves loose was so rare, “My beautiful daughter,” His eyes glimmered as he considered you closely, “He’ll return.”

“Surely, he will,” You confirmed and gently pulled his hand away from your hair, “Go eat breakfast, Ada,” You ordered kindly, “I’ll see you in the forge, yes?”

“Fine,” He backed away a step, “But you be careful. Don’t hesitate to ask for help, I may be old but I can still wield a hammer.”

“So can I, Ada,” You raised a brow, “Now go.”

Your father turned away begrudgingly and you watched him with arms crossed until he disappeared inside the house. You sighed and looked to the path which led around the house and to the forge. It would be lonely working at your anvil without the clang of another hammer and despite your restraint, you felt tears brimming in your eyes. You sniffed and dropped your arms, urging yourself forward.

You would see Thorin again. He had promised you.

* * *

_**Two weeks later** _

Your father wiped away the sweat upon his brow, his face reddened with excess as he set aside his hammer for the night. You watched him approach your anvil and motion for you to still your work. You reluctantly kept another blow from landing on the iron and sighed as you tossed your tools down with a clatter.

“Daughter,” He reached out to pull you near and laid a kiss on your cheek, “Do not be so glum. What has you so low, as late? I rarely see your precious smile.”

“When did I ever smile so oft, father?” You challenged with a screwed-up look.

“More than you know,” He stepped away to untie the straps of his leather apron and you followed suit, examining the stained hide of your boots.

This was the time which you loathed most. Without the noise and heat of the forge to distract you, your nights were filled with dreadful thoughts of your beloved. You could no longer chase away your worries with your hammer but were forced to imagine Thorin at the end of an orc’s blade.

You hung your leather apron beside that which had not been unhooked in more than a fortnight. Thorin’s smock remained where he had left it, his hammer leaned against his anvil which had gone cold with disuse. You bit the inside of your cheek as you withheld your brewing emotions and your turned back to your father as he waited patiently at the door.

“Your mother will be growing fretful,” Your father commented as he let your step out before him. He could see you were upset but he did not press, knowing he would get little response, “You know how she hates to see her food grow cold.”

“It would be a crime,” You commended as you neared the steps of the house, “I’d hate to let it. I am ravenous after such a long day.”

“It would not be so long if you did not rise before dawn,” Your father chided as he followed you inside, “You work yourself much too hard, my girl. We managed before without that prince and we’re doing just fine now.”

You tried to smile at your father, recalling how he had fallen comatose in the forge not so long ago. You turned to greet your mother who stood beside her fire stove and Raina already sat at the table with an unexpected guest at her side. Pia chattered away as she leaned her elbow on the table before her and you see the disapproval in your mother’s eyes as she watched her younger daughter’s companion. She mirrored your own distaste but you had little energy to confront the dam.

“Pia,” You lowered yourself into a chair, “What brings you to sup with us this eve?”

“I was helping Raina with the pies…seeing as you’re so busy at the forge these days,” She preened.

“Mmm, I didn’t know cobbler’s daughters knew so much of baking,” You retorted, unable to withhold your spite, “Not so much as they do of gossip.”

“Now, Y/N, be kind,” Your mother sat across from you as your father filled his stein with ale, “She is our guest and your moods are never welcomed at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, Maamr,” You looked down at your plate, taking up fork and knife as you focused on eating, “And sorry, Pia. I’ve been working all day and I must be overtired.”

“That’s quite alright, I understand. You must work overly much now that you are without Prince Thorin,” Pia’s voice was as shrill as always, “And Raina does miss him terribly, too. She was only just telling me–”

“Pia!” Raina covered her cheeks bashfully with her hands, “Don’t go blabbing to all.”

“Oops!” Pia said without a touch of guilt.

“Oh, these two,” Your mother shook her head, “They’ve been jabbering all day over that prince. Has he not set my household into enough disarray? I swear, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You kept silent and chewed a mouthful of beef, washing it down with a swig of ale. Raina couldn’t stop giggling and Pia joined her gleefully.

“Why do you flutter over the prince so?” You father inquired playfully, “Should I be worried, daughter?”

“Well…” Raina averted her eyes coyly, “I just…miss him terribly. I didn’t know how much I would.”

“Oh?” Your father raised his brow and for a moment, his eyes flicked towards you curiously, “I did not know you were so close with the prince.”

“Ada, surely it must be expected when a dwarf frequents one’s home so regularly that an attachment forms,” Raina’s cheeks glowed and you drank deeper before slamming down your empty stein, receiving a look from those around the table.

“Ahem, sorry,” You choked, “I didn’t…uh, mean to do that.”

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Raina smiled over at Pia before turning her attention back to her parents, “I made a vow with Pia, when the prince returns, I shall confess my feeling to him.”

“Your feelings?” Your father’s voice was anxious to your surprise and you filled your stein to the brim, holding your breath and words in your chest.

“I think I am in love with the prince, Ada,” Raina placed a hand over her heart, “Oh surely I must be for how I feel when I think of him.”

_Did she truly believe such drivel?_  She did not even call Thorin by his name. ‘ _The Prince’_ , she had titled him. If she knew him at all, she would know he would prefer his true name and nothing more.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Raina,” Your mother chimed, ever the voice of reason, “Thorin may not return for years, if he does at all, and you may just find another during his absence.”

“I won’t,” Your sister swore, “I could not!”

“Please, Raina,” Your mother reached out for her hand, “I am not saying you will, I am only asking for sense in this matter. Do not get ahead of yourself.”

“Love does not make sense, Maamr,” Your sister raised her chin defiantly as you hid behind your stein, “And I will wait for the prince. Forever, if need be.”

* * *

_**Two Years, 3 months, and 16 days later** _

You had been in the forge since before the sun had risen. Your days had been spent thus since Thorin had departed. As your father had weakened without his second apprentice, you had taken on more and more work for yourself. Every day, your memory of Thorin seemed to fade and yet, your longing for him burned hotter.

Rather than cry for the distance between you and your beloved, and the unknown which kept him, you had sweated it away. You smoothed the edge of the spade you had been commissioned to make by a neighbour and stepped away from your anvil to catch your breath. Your father had still not arrived for work and you worried enough to go search for him. You feared you would find him unable to rise from his bed.

You pulled the tie from your damp hair and rebound it at the back of your head, closing your eyes as you leaned against the wall. You were shaken from your fatigue as the door swung open and you looked over to find your father nearly skipping inside. It was an odd sight for such a burly dwarf.

“Ada?” You pushed yourself from the wall, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, daughter, I’ve a surprise for you!” He nearly sang and seized your hands, twirling you around in the tight spaces between anvils, “A very nice surprise.”

“Please, don’t keep me guessing,” You said dully and forced him to stop, “You know I hate surprises.”

“Thorin,” His eyes glowed brighter than the fire behind him, “The army approaches.” He looked young despite his wrinkles, “He’s returned.”

“Mmm,” You pursed your lips anxiously, almost afraid to believe it, “Should you not be fetching Pia?”

“She knows, she awaits him inside,” Your father explained, “She claims he shall come at once to see her.”

You had no response as your stomach began to roil.  _Would she tell him? How would Thorin react to Raina’s infatuation? Was he the same dwarf who had left you those years ago?_ War changed people and rarely for the better.  _Had the ravages of war smother all hope which had let him love you so deeply?_

“Daughter,” Your father’s hand was on your shoulder, “I–”

The door interrupted him and your mother entered with a huff. “Harkin,” She said sternly, “Your other daughter bids you to return. She insists you are present for the prince’s arrival…should he propose, he would need your blessing.”

Your father grumbled and looked back to you and you took his hand from your shoulder, “Come on then. Let’s go wait for him. Though I think it should be some time,” Your mother held the door for both of you, “Time better spent at work.”

“You spend too much time in there as it is,” Your mother reprimanded, “I’d rather you than that little Pia frequenting my kitchen.”

You chuckled at your mother’s moaning and entered the kitchen behind her, finding Raina sitting with freshly combed hair and sparkling eyes. You took your vigil in the corner, leaning against the wall with arms crossed as she began to ramble about what she planned to say. You kept from shaking your head at her and your parents sat with her, trying to calm her overeager nerves.

It had been at least an hour before you heard boots in the streets, an army dispersing to find their homes and loved ones. There were no horns blaring in victory and the voices which could be heard, were sonorous and muffled. This was an army returning in defeat.  _Was Thorin with them at all?_

It was close to two hours when your anxieties were both calmed and stirred by a knock at the door. It was decisive but soft. It foretold of one road-wearied and mournful. Your mother rose and disappeared into the hallway, returning with a set of footsteps at her heels. You held your breath as Thorin appeared from the darkness, his head held high despite sullenness of his demeanour and the filth which covered both clothing and skin alike.

His eyes searched the room and when they found you in the corner, his eyes sparked with the light which had been missing. Raina twiddled her fingers and you could see her struggling for her words. Your father stood to meet Thorin, holding out his hand and patting his shoulder.

“You’re back,” Harkin smiled, “In one piece.”

“On the outside,” Thorin shook your father’s hand, his voice brittle, “There is not much to say…” He swallowed as if tears nipped at his throat, “I am much tired from my travels but I must speak to you,” Thorin inhaled deeply, “About your daughter.”

Raina’s lashes fluttered and she looked like to faint. Your heart stopped as you fought to keep from running across the room to embrace Thorin. Despite the change you saw in him, the grief and the tragedy, you could not help but want to hold him. Your hands were shaking as you uncrossed your arms and you waited for the scene to unfold.

“Before I left, I made a promise to your daughter,” Raina looked confused as she listened, trying to recall such a promise, “I told Y/N I would return and that when I did, I would tell you all.” Thorin straightened himself and set his jaw, “I love Y/N more than anything. She is the only reason I lived through the war and…” Thorin reached into his fur-trimmed cloak, pulling forth a small golden oval which he polished with his thumb, revealing the amber inset, “I made this the week after I met her in your very forge. It’s her courting bead and I have counted the days since I left to give it to her.”

“Y/N!?” Raina stood suddenly, turning to you scornfully as her chair toppled behind her, “Y/N? How?”

Thorin was confounded as he watched Raina near you, your father sharing a similar expression.

“You’ve betrayed me, sister,” She declared as she jabbed her finger towards you, “And I shall never forgive you for it.”

She turned on her heel and marched towards the back door, slamming it behind her as you heard her sobs follow her away from the house. You were speechless and your parents shared a cryptic look.

“Thorin,” Your father turned back to the stunned dwarf and you were sure he was about to forbid his courting you, “You have my blessing,” Harkin smiled, “I’ve known about you and my daughter since the day you left us and I’ve counted the days the same as you. How I’ve longed to see her happy again. I pray that you can make her so.”

“Raina will get over it,” Your mother assured Thorin, “She acts so fragile and yet she flirts with every dwarf at her stall on market days. Her One is out there and she’ll surely root him out.”

“Be that as it may, we best go find her,” Your father took your mother’s arm and led her towards the door, “You two have much to talk about.”

With that, your parents fled through the door and you were left to stand in tense silence as you stared across the room at Thorin. You were moving across the floor before you realized it and he met you halfway, wrapping you in his arms and he pressed his lips to yours. You could smell the soil and blood on him mixed with his sweat but his touch assured you it was him.  _He still loved you._

“Thorin,” You pulled away to look up at him, admiring his blue eyes and dark hair, his thick nose and brows. He was even more handsome than you recalled and yet, he  _had_  changed. He had been hurt, “What happened to you?”

“I…” His voice crackled and he lowered his gaze, a tear rolling down his nose. You placed your hand on his head and cradled it against your shoulder as he began to sob, “Frerin is dead. My brother–”

Thorin choked as he continued to cry and you joined in his tears as you felt his body wracked with despair. He clung to you tightly as if he feared you would try to leave him until finally he raised his head, his eyes reddened.

“I thought I’d never make it back to you. That I would break my promise and I could not have peace if I ever broke your heart, Y/N,” He swallowed and reached up to wipe his cheeks, “You’re all I have. And all I’ll ever need.” He raised the bead he still held in his hand, “This is yours, if you’ll have it.”

“Of course, Thorin,” You brought your hand up to untangle a knot in his hair with your fingers, “I would no other braid in my hair but yours.”

Thorin’s lip trembled as he smiled and he pulled you to him once more, embracing you as he nuzzled his nose in your hair. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Thorin,” You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, the fur tickling your flesh, “I’m never letting you go again. Ever. I promise.”


	3. Chain of Fools

Thorin had wept until he was dry of tears. All the while you had held him, his head upon your shoulder as you sat quietly and listened. To lose a sibling was a tragedy; the greatest you could think of. Even if Raina hated you, you would be devastated to lose her. Whatever resent lingered between the two of you was of little true significance. All this would be forgotten in time.

He sat up and sniffed, wiping what was left of his grief from his raw eyes. His cheeks were sallow and streaked from his tears and his blue eyes swollen. Even so, he smiled when he looked at you and you returned the gesture. It was still difficult to fathom that it was truly him beside you. That he wasn’t merely a ghost summoned by your longing.

“I am filthy,” He looked at his grimy hand which cradled your own, “I must smell horrid.”

“I didn’t notice,” You touched his jaw, his beard thicker than you had ever seen it. He had always kept it finely groomed before but the road had allowed him little care for that.

“May I ask a favour of you?” His voice was small and his grip on your hand tightened, “I should do it myself but I haven’t the strength left in me…”

“Whatever you wish, my love,” You hoped he would never leave. Never go beyond your sight. You couldn’t bear the thought of not having him near.

“By dwarvish rite, I must shear my locks to mark my mourning,” He trembled and exhaled slowly, “I’ve lost my brother and my people have lost their prince…but I have not been able to do it. I have sat with a blade to my hair and cannot bear to make a single cut, as if to do so would to be to truly admit he is gone. I know he is but I can’t…not by myself.”

“Thorin, of course,” You touched a single long hanging down his mailed shoulder. He had beautiful hair and it would be a loss in itself. “I will do whatever you need of me. I am to be your wife and should only wish to make you happy.”

“My wife…” His lips twitched, his frown fading, “You will ever make me the most happy.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead, “Come.” He stood and pulled you with him, “I would not have us making a mess of your mother’s floor.”

“A wise decision,” You clung to him as he took his pack on one shoulder and led you out the back door, “It is better we go before my sister returns anyhow.”

“Yes, she did seem rather upset,” He mused, his voice still thick from crying but lighter than it was, “I never thought her little infatuation would grow so deep.”

“You knew?” You gave him a sharp look, “And you never thought to deter her?”

“I did, but you wanted us to stay a secret and I didn’t want to fuel her suspicion,” He shrugged, his eyes betraying his nonchalance, “I did as you bid, my love.”

“Don’t play at that,” You jabbed him lightly with your finger as he led you away from your house and toward the street, “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere we can be alone,” He answered, releasing your hand to snake his arm around your waist, “At last.”

“Have you not been home yet?” You wondered aloud, “Shouldn’t you–”

“My family can wait,” He assured you, “I should like to be clean for my arrival anyhow.”

You kept silent as you suspected you would not get a straight answer from the stubborn prince. You let him guide you and enjoyed the cool evening breeze as it ruffled the tails of your tunic. Just beyond the square, he turned west. It was nearly dark by the time you neared the sparse trees which marked the edge of town and you could hear the faint running of a river.

“I know this place,” You said, “I haven’t been here since I was a child and it was forbidden.”

“You’ve never been one to listen, have you?” He pondered.

“Only to my own whims,” You smirked, “But let that not change your mind on our union.”

“I would never,” He released you as the river came into sight and set his pack on a flat stone, unbuckling the flap to search within, “Here.”

He pulled forth a bundle bound with leather straps, a clank muffled by fabric sounded as he dropped it beside his pack.

“Oh?” You neared and untied the roll, revealing a row of iron tools, “A barber’s kit?”

“I borrowed it from the army barber,” He explained, “Hopefully it is adequate.”

“Hopefully I am,” You raised a brow, “I’ve not much experience in cutting hair.”

“It all must be shorn,” He stated evenly, “Down to the scalp.”

“So it must,” You replied mournfully, “I mightn’t even recognize you by the time I’m done.”

“I barely recognize myself as it is,” He sighed as he removed his cloak and undid the large silver clasp upon his belt. He set them aside in a small pile, adding to it his mail and boots. “I fear I am no longer the dwarf you loved so long ago.”

“Perhaps I am not the same dam, but I love you still the same,” You vowed, “Let’s get you washed first,” You neared and helped him removed his tunic, baring his thick torso too the looming night, “Thorin…” You reached out to touch a scar along his side, newly healed. A line of stitches held closed another more recent wound along his shoulder and he winced at your fingertips.

“I am so fortunate to have not but scars for my troubles,” He bemoaned.

“And I am so fortunate as well, to have you back with me,” You stepped away as he untied his trousers and they fell to his ankles, revealing his undershorts.

When he was bared fully, he entered the water and you removed your own clothing. You followed him into the river and helped him scrub away the filth of battle from his skin and hair. The process was practical, almost mechanical, and yet there was an intimacy between you.

To be close to him, your skin touching his, his warmth radiating around you. It was your first time seeing him naked but it was more sacred than lurid. And he looked at you in reverence, not lust. There was desire between you but the circumstance stemmed it. That would have to wait; this was a time of mourning. Of rebirth.

When you left the water, you felt cleaner than ever. You felt as if you had awaken from a long sleep and the night lent serenity to the moment. You looked at Thorin, no longer stained with war and grief. You dressed in silence and turned to the barber’s tools, pulling forth the thickest set of shears.

You sat upon the flat rock and Thorin settled before you, his back to you and his thick wet locks at your mercy. You took the first shank of hair and whispered a khuzdul prayer of mourning before you cut through it. The second fell away easier and soon half his mane lay across the dirt. The prince sat stoically, unmoving as you cut away his dwarvish pride. When his hair was short enough, you took the razor and sheared it closer, until he had not but a bristle of short hair left along his scalp.

He stood without looking back and crossed to the river, looking into the depths as the moon illuminated his reflection. He asked for the razor and set to shaving away his beard, the last of his hair falling into the river. You waited for him to finish and took a lock from the dirt, binding it with one of the laces which held closed the collar of your tunic.

You tucked it into your pocket as Thorin stood and turned back to you. Without his hair, he was not so grizzled and he looked as young as he was. The prince, still few in years, now showed it. The maturity which had aged him remained only in his deep blue eyes.

“Do you still love me now?” He asked as he neared, and you reached out to touch his bare jawline.

“I do,” You assured him, “Forever and always.”

* * *

Raina did not talk to you for an entire fortnight. She had even refused to share the same room with you at night. She had taken to sleeping on the sofa in the living room, though it was too short for even her. When you descended for breakfast, she would excuse herself and you had given up joining your own family for supper.

However, she was not angry with Thorin. She greeted him all the same; with a bat of her long lashes and a sickly sweet smile. It was almost as if she was doing it to get to you. You ate most of your meals in the backyard, sitting on the steps with your plate on your knees or at your anvil in the forge. More often than not, your betrothed ate with you.

“Is she really that mad?” Thorin asked on the fifteenth night after his return, “She doesn’t seem so.”

“Not to you,” You grumbled and bit into the chicken leg with relish. You were ravenous after a day of work and due to the brewing anger within, “She will not look at or speak to me. She only talks about me and that Pia! She sends that little brat to bother me more.”

“Oh?” You could tell he had little experience in the matters of sisters; his own faced him with a much different type of opposition, “Well, speaking of sisters…”

“Mmm,” You quirked your head, chewing on your next mouthful as you awaited his words.

“Dis would like to have you for dinner, the whole family actually. She has also found herself betrothed and is in a celebrating frame of mind. I suspect she wishes to marry before our father is too far gone,” You had heard much of Thrain; the displaced king of Erebor who was rumoured to have drifted closer to madness since his older son’s death. “I should have the same want but my father never cared so much for me.”

You took another bite, knowing it was best not to pry. Thorin, the younger prince, was now heir to the Mountain and yet his father showed him little heed. You could see hurt in Thorin’s eyes every time he spoke of the king and you felt horrid for him.

“I’ve not told him yet of our engagement, in fear of his temper and that of my sister,” He explained, mashing a potato beneath his fork, “You see, she’d not be particularly elated to find that we’ve planned our own union so close to her own….you do not mind?”

“Not at all, I am in no hurry so long as you do not plan to leave me again,” You smiled reassuringly, “I know how difficult family can be and I would not think to come between you and your own.”

“So you will come?” He asked.

“I certainly will,” You announced, “And I shall extend the invitation to the rest of my clan.”

“And Raina?”

“She’ll come or she won’t,” You shrugged, “I wouldn’t prevent her either way. She is still my sister, if only she could accept that herself.”

“She will,” Thorin said with a consolatory smile, “It is the way of siblings.”

“Hmm,” You sighed and set aside your plate, distracted by your anxious thoughts. Raina was as dwarvish as any and she could be relentlessly obstinate. You did not feel guilt over your love for Thorin but her anger burned you.  _What if she never forgave you?_

“It’ll be alright,” Thorin took your hand in his, “Trust me. She’ll get over it.”

* * *

Your father looked cleaner than you had ever seen him. Usually, his skin looked grimy from working in the forge and his hair greasy from his unyielding sweat. You rarely looked much better but he had even been the most dwarvish looking dwarf you had known. But tonight, his hair was freshly washed and brushed, his white beard was just as neat, and he wore an overcoat you had never seen before.

“Now don’t you go slopping all over yourself,” Your mother warned as she buttoned the jacket for her husband. Her own hair was plaited elaborately atop her head and she wore the nicest dress she owned. She looked like a queen without a crown, even if her gown was nearly as old as you.

Raina stood silently, hands folded one over the other, staring at the wall. She had agreed to attend Dis’ dinner on the condition that she got a new dress. After a night of arguing between your sister and mother without resolution, you had approached the latter and offered the silver for new fabric. It had taken a whole other argument to get her to accept and you had made her swear not to tell Raina where the coin had come from.

Your sister looked immaculate, surely better than yourself. Her hair was a shade lighter than yours and her eyes always twinkled, even when she was mad. She resembled your mother as much as you did your father. Her hair she wore half-loose, letting the silken locks sweep down her back and shoulder. The rose fabric she had chosen brought out her complexion wonderfully and you felt even more the pauper.

Your own dress was ill-used and was taut around the muscles of your arms and shoulders. Years off working in the forge had hardened you so that you look displaced in the soft swathes of cloth. It was of a dotted jade cotton and allowed you little room to breathe. It was hard to recall the last you had worn a dress or styled your hair; you must have been barely more than a girl.

“Come on you two,” Your father was at the door, holding it open with his boot as he waited impatiently. Anxious to meet Thorin’s father and dreading an outcry from Raina, you had been too distracted to notice your parents harrying leave.

You waited for Raina to move first and followed her out the front. You carried a maple pie you had saved for the occasion and your father closed the door behind you. He fell into step with you and touched your elbow kindly. “It’ll be okay, girl.”

“I know,” You looked to your mother and sister ahead of you, “Just remember, this is about Dis. No need to discuss Thorin and I.”

“Right, dear,” Your mother glanced over her shoulder, “Not a word. We promise.” She nudged your sister who grumbled her unintelligible compliance.

The walk was long and silent; intensified by the growing enmity between you and Raina. You came upon the Durin’s house and your father pushed his way to the front, knocking loudly on the door. From within, you heard voices and scurrying within and the door swung open with a cheery greeting which could have been a bird singing.

Dis greeted your father with an embrace and your mother, too. Raina’s crossed arms kept her from a similar gesture but the princess seemed unfazed. She turned to you with a smile and kissed your cheek. “Do come in,” She ushered the lot of you within, “Everyone’s waiting.”

You removed your cloaks and hung them with several other which lined the wall on hooks. You followed Dis through the main room and into another, a dining table sitting central with the other guests already seated. Thorin smiled as you entered and Dis took the pie from your hands as she turned to the table.

“This is my betrothed, Vinor,” She neared the chair of a blonde dwarf with humourous green eyes, “And my father, Thrain.”

“King Thrain,” The old man corrected Dis and gulped from a large stein.

“Father,” She reprimanded but did not cease smiling, “And you all know Thorin, of course.”

“Of course,” You neared the table, Thorin rose to pull out the chair next to him for you. Raina sat across from you, your mother at her side, and your father at your other shoulder.

“So, you are the fool who has employed my second son?” Thrain grolwed from the head of the table, “You look smarter than you are.”

“He’s a hard worker and fine craftsman,” Your father countered.

“Better a craftsman than a prince, I suppose,” Thrain grumbled, “All in the Mountain work the forge. It is a trait of our kind. I’ve yet to find any Blue Mountain silver better wrought than that of Erebor.”

“I prefer utility to beauty,” Your father held his own but remained calm, friendly even, “But I’d love to hear more of your peoples’ way.”

The king waved your father closer, leaning forward with a twinkle in his eyes. It was the first sign of life the old dwarf had shown. Your father rose and Thorin offered his chair to him, sitting on your other side. Thrain began to mumble about the great forge of Erebor and you looked to Thorin curiously.

“It’s been a while since he’s had someone his own age around,” He whispered, “And your father is the only I could see not letting him get over on him.”

“Oh?” You glanced over at the two white-haired dwarves as they fell into conversation, “Well, there’s one mule taken care of.”

Raina was sulking as she avoided looking at you, arms crossed as she sneered at the table. Thorin patted your arm gently, trying to comfort you. Dis sat beside Vinor and peered around the table, raising her arms as if presenting the table. “We may begin!”

She removed the first lid from on of the great platters and the rest of the guests followed suit, helping themselves to the heaps of food piled before them. You scooped some sweet potato onto your plate and filled it to the brim with roast beef and a medley of grilled vegetables. You sat back and looked to Thorin, hoping that it remained calm.

“Hmm,” You admired the short dark hairs which had begun to grow and the scruff along his chin, “I can’t believe you’re the same dwarf beneath all that hair.”

“Don’t,” He shook his head, “I’m still getting used to it myself.”

You chuckled and took a bite of roast beef, looking up just as Raina’s venomous eyes found you. She cleared her throat, shifting in her chair as she pretended to listen to Dis.

“Vinor was away with the other dwarves,” She explained, “I was so afraid he may not be back. Oh, but he promised he’d marry me when he returned and thankfully he did.” She smiled and took her beloved’s hand, “You must know how I felt, Y/N?”

“Um,” You nodded awkwardly as Thorin grinned from your side, “Yes, I suppose. I did miss Thorin a great much.”

“Yes, she would,” You sister slithered, “She knows exactly how you feel. Her courting bead is small but she knows it all the same,” You could see the malice in her smirk as she continued, “Perhaps you two should plan your weddings together. You could marry on the same day seeing as you’re  _both_  betrothed.”

“Raina,” Your mother hissed and pinched your sister who did not cease her grinning.

“Betrothed?” Dis looked between you and Thorin, “But I thought you had only begun courting?”

“Not entirely, but…” Thorin sputtered, his expression turning grim, “We were not planning on announcing our engagement so soon. We thought it’d be best until you–”

“Why? So that you could best me?”

“Dis,” Thorin warned and the whole table was not silently listening to the dispute.

“Now that you’re heir, you must be the special one, hmm?” She was sounding like Raina, “When did you plan to announce it? At my own wedding?”

“If you had waited, I would have said until after you are married, Dis,” His voice had grown angry and his expression sinister, “For Mahal’s sake, I just buried my own brother and you can only think of yourself. I don’t need to prove myself or my love to any. I could swear my heart and soul to Y/N beneath the full moon and be just as happy. I don’t need some elaborate union. Have your soiree and leave me out of your vanity.”

“The both of you!” Thrain boomed as he stood, “I lose my son and heir and you squabble like petulant children!” He brought his fist down on the table, causing it to shake, “What am I left with? A girl and a second son.” He spat and turned on his heel, grabbing his stein and storming from the room.

“Second son,” Thorin muttered with distaste, “It should have been me.”

“Don’t say that,” You touched his shoulder but he shook you off and rose, walking from the room blindly and you heard the front door open and close. You pushed yourself to your feet and glared across at Raina, her simpering smile shrinking to fearful gape, “You! Do you see what you’ve done? Can’t you just be happy for someone other than yourself? I never did anything to you. Never.”

“I love him!” She shouted childishly.

“You love the idea of him. The idea of a title,” You retorted, “You do not know him. How could you ever love him? You don’t even love me if this is how you treat me!”

You swept around the table and followed in the footsteps of your beloved. You raced down the steps and through the streets until you caught up to him, his feet dragging across the stone. He hung his head and dared not to look at you. You took his hand and made him stop, turning him to you.

“We don’t need them, we have each other,” You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, “You are my first and only choice, Thorin.”

“Y/N…” He looked over you, his eyes glassy with unspent tears. He suddenly smiled and shook his head.

“What is it?”

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before,” He commented as he touched the green fabric stretched over your shoulder.

“Is it that bad?” You groaned.

“You look lovely,” He assured you and wrapped his arms around you, “But please, tell me you’ll have a proper fitting for our wedding.”

“Only for you, my love,” You chuckled, hovering your lips before his, “Only you.”


	4. Sky Full of Stars

It had been a fortnight since the disastrous dinner. Raina had taken to sulking now that you were the one ignoring her and Thorin had become reserved in his affections. You could see that he still loved you, still wanted to be with you, but his family’s reaction troubled him. And you.

You were not of royal blood, nor were you of people of Erebor. You were an outsider in every manner and they had made it all the more obvious.  _If his own family treated you with such hostility, how would his people receive you? If you married their prince, would they accept you as his princess? And if he was to return to Erebor one day, would you be willing to leave your own family?_

The ifs you had said yes to were starting to make you doubt the absolutes. Even if your love was unshakeable, there were many factors which could keep you apart against your own will. The desire to be together was not always enough.

You distracted yourself in the forge. The hammering kept your ears ringing and the smell of metal kept your mind on the work. You sometimes forgot that Thorin and your father were there. At times, it felt like you were all alone, trying to fend off your own mind.

So it was that you didn’t notice when your hammering was not echoed by two other sets. It took some moments but you looked up to the light streaming in from the door and the figure beside Thorin. Dis was on her tiptoes, speaking in her brother’s ear as your father stood cheerily at her other side.

You set aside your tools and wiped your hands on your apron as she stared at you, awaiting your attention. You rounded your anvil, hoping she was not here to reprimand you once more. You had been friends before this whole engagement fiasco and you hated to argue with her. The key to fitting into the family was not through vitriol.

“Dis,” You greeted coldly, bracing yourself for battle, “Princess.”

“Y/N,” She said, her voice laced with remorse, “Please, don’t. I’m here to apologize.”

“It’s true,” Thorin smiled. You knew he was close with his sister and you could see the relief in his shoulders, “I think this is the first she’s apologized to me since we were dwarflings.”

“Well,” You crossed your arms, “I don’t see a need for an apology. I only hope you know we never intended any harm. We love each other and cannot change that. Will not.”

“I understand, I was selfish,” She frowned penitent and somber.

“We don’t need a ceremony, no parade. Only each other and if it would make you happy, we would wait as long as necessary,” You stated, “But we cannot stop loving each other.”

“Oh Mahal,” She looked to her brother, “You surely found the only dam half as stubborn as you, brother.”

“Besides yourself,” He chuckled, “Y/N, take some time away from your anvil. Me and your father can handle the day’s labour.”

“But…” You could see in his eyes he would brook no argument. Not for his own pride but for his sister’s, “Of course,” You nodded and neared him, pecking his cheek before following Dis to the door.

“Y/N,” She began as you stepped out into the sun, “I really did act a child. I shouldn’t have been upset, I should be happy for you. Happier for Thorin. He’s so lucky to find a dam who would put up with him.”

“Thank you,” You lowered your eyes bashfully, “I’m am so happy for you, too. I only wish you had given me the chance to say so two weeks ago.”

“Oh you are so much like Thorin,” She trilled as she walked up your back steps, entering the kitchen where your mother was performing her daily chores. She turned away from the steaming kettle as you entered, turning to the table on which a chest rested. “I brought you a little gift in hopes that you would forgive me.”

“I don’t need anything,” You protested as she crossed to the chest, unlatching it and tossing back the lid.

“Nonsense, you will need a wedding gown,” She announced, pulling forth a ring with a dozen swatches of various off-white fabrics, “My seamstress allowed me to borrow these so I could decide…I’ve already selected mine but I think you should too.”

“Um,” You neared and looked into the box, shades of every colour staring back at you, “I really don’t need anything so fancy. Maamr will make me a cotton dress much more suited to me.”

“You will be a princess. Thorin is heir to the Mountain now,” She turned to you with a bittersweet smile, “If we should ever return home. And besides, there is another price I ask for this favour.”

“Which would be?” You asked with dread.

“You must show me how to bake your maple walnut tart,” She clasped her hands together, “Vinor, like Thorin, has taken a special liking to the flavour.”

You were about chuckle but your relief was curtailed by heavy footsteps descending the ladder. Raina had chosen to make her entrance at last, nearly stomping as she climbed down. She turned to the scene with a scowl, her eyes scathing.

“Maamr,” She ignored you and Dis as she took her cloak from its hook, “I must go see Pia. I shall be back shortly.”

She whipped the tails of her coat deliberately as she turned to the door, huffing as she tramped out into the sunlight. You glanced to Dis with embarrassment and she offered a comforting smile.

“Well, I guess Thorin did find more than one dam who should want him,” She mused dryly, “His fortune is ever mordant.”

* * *

You had settled on a deep bronze silk. The russet cloth was different enough from Dis’ rose trimmed ivory that she couldn’t possibly be offended. You hadn’t put much thought into the choice, only selecting one to appease the princess and your mother. The entire afternoon, you could only think of Raina and her loathing for you.

When you were younger, you had been close. She hadn’t found so many reasons to detest you before she had become so smitten with the idea of a husband and her fairy tale life. Your mother used to reproach you for staying up all night in your shared bed and chattering. In between chores, you would conspire over your next adventure and the prospect would get you through the tedium. That felt long ago.

The next day, you were silent. You were mourning your relationship with your sister, your sadness hammered away on the anvil. You should have been helping your mother with the pies as you did every day before market but it stung to be near Raina. She looked at you with such venom, but you had stolen something she had never possessed.

“Y/N,” Thorin’s deep voice cut through your work, stilling your hands, “Your mother was just asking after you.”

“She has Raina,” You muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your glove.

“Oh,” You could see the realization in his eyes, “She is still upset.”

“I don’t think she should ever forgive me, Thorin,” You moped, “I thought it was just a girlish crush, not anything that should sour to hatred.”

“Would you set me aside, amralime?” He asked with feigned dread.

“Don’t,” You warned, “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to make you smile.”

“When we were girls, she used to swear to me that I’d be the Dam of Honour in her wedding. Funny thing is, we only ever dreamt of her marrying, but I thought, should I ever be so fortunate, she should be mine as well…” The memories were like acid, burning your eyes as you held back tears, “Life is so cruel. It never goes how we planned.”

“Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” He touched your shoulder but you shrugged him off.

“I’d rather finish this,” You looked back to your work, “I just…don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“As you wish,” He replied somberly, “But I will return with water and you will at least have a drink. I cannot have me betrothed passing out on her anvil.”

“Of course I will, Thorin,” You softened, “Do tell me mother my regrets.”

“I should be more upset,” He rounded the anvil to kiss your forehead, “No maple walnut tarts this week…”

“You could forego a slice or too,” You poked his stomach teasingly, though his muscles was firm as ever, “Go on, then.”

He left you with a smile and you returned to your work, your hammer ringing so loud you forgot where you were. There was only the flame and anvil. The stolid air enwrapping you, suffocating all worry.

* * *

It was market day. You wouldn’t be at the stall that week, you hadn’t been for quite some time. Nevertheless, you rose early and sat at the kitchen table, watching the steam rise from a freshly brewed cup of tea. Sleep had not come easy these last weeks.

You no longer shared the loft with your sister, allowing her her space and anger. Instead, you slept on the threadbare couch which had sat in your front room since your infancy. Its thin cushions disjointed your back and set an unyielding crick in your neck. Yet it was preferable to her silent enmity.

You hadn’t seen Raina since Dis’ visit. She was quite skilled at avoiding you, though your time in the forge helped. You could see the discomfort it caused in both your parents but you hadn’t the energy to try anymore. Your sister had always been painfully stubborn, though she was often lauded as the more harmonious one.

Your fingers wrapped around the cup, the warmth spreading along your palm. Your heart turned icy as you heard the latter groan and the tired footfalls as they met with each rung. You sat rigid and anxious as Raina landed on the floor, her slippers dragging into the kitchen.

You waited, breath bated, as she passed behind your chair. She opened the cupboard and brought down a cup, pouring herself tea and adding sugar to it without a word. She set her brew on the table before she lowered herself into the chair across from you. Her eyes were timid, almost fearful.

You exhaled at last and sipped from your tea, waiting for the onslaught. Surely she had more sour words for you. More complaints. A pleasant start to the day, no doubt.

“I’m sorry,” Her words nearly caused you to choke on your tea. You lowered your cup and raised your brows in bewilderment. She still spoke with the cadence of a sulky child, but you could her the sincerity beneath it. “Yesterday, Thorin came to speak with me…I didn’t realize how selfish I was.”

“Raina, it’s…you don’t have to apologize,” You only wanted her not to hate you.

“But I should. I just…I guess I let myself get caught up in my own jealousy. I don’t even know–I never really said much to Thorin, I was always too nervous but somehow I convinced myself he could see it. That’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

She paused and drank from her cup. “I’m happy for you. Maybe I didn’t get the prince I dreamed of, but there’ll be a dwarf out there for me. When I’m ready.” She sniffed, “I want us to be sisters again…Thorin, he made me realize how dumb I was acting. Petty, even. He’s lost his brother and here I am disowning my only sister over a dwarf!”

“You’ll always be my sister, Raina,” You reached over to touch the back of her hand, “Nothing can change that. Nothing.”

“I’m so sorry,” She said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Don’t be sorry,” You stood, moving your chair closer, “I only ask one thing.”

“Yes?” She wiped away her tears with embarrassment, “Anything?”

“Be my Dam of Honour?” You smiled, “I can’t do it all myself.”

“Of course, Y/N,” Her cheeks brightened and her tears dried up.

“Thank you,” You pulled her into an embrace, her arms tentative as she returned it, “I love you, sister.”

“I love you, too,” She said into your shoulder.

* * *

After the extravagance of Dis’ wedding, yours was approaching too fast. Having sat on the benches with Thorin and watched his sister pledge her love, you had become less than eager for your own day.  _Why did there need to be a ceremony? Couldn’t you just say you loved him and be done with it?_

Thorin could sense your unease, but it had only led to an argument. You didn’t want to get married in front of everyone. It was all a waste of time and resources. But he was prince and his people, as displaced as they were, needed to witness the union. As heir to the Mountain, he had to keep their hope alive. 

_And when did he plan on vanquishing the dragon and taking back his home?_

So it was that you were tense, your betrothed at your shoulder, and a crowd before you. It was a fortnight before you were to wed. In dwarvish tradition, it would be the last you would be permitted to see Thorin before the ceremony.

You had sacrificed your work in the forge to honour the rite, to be cloistered in your house with your mother and sister. All in the wedding party were present but for Thorin’s father. Thrain had mustered his strength to witness his daughter’s union but had sworn he would not attend that of his own son. He was a dwarf, he could see to his own marriage without his father.

You knew that it hurt Thorin. His father had forsaken him since Frerin’s death. It was almost as if he had no sons. Your own father had done well enough in shouldering the absence, excited for the first to have a son of his own. He was lucky, many dwarves said, to have two daughters. A rarity among your people but you could tell he longed for another male presence.

“Please, do not stay mad with me, amaralime,” Thorin leaned down, his voice hushed, “I would not spend our time apart in your low graces.”

You remained silent, running your finger along the rim of your stein.  _How was it that the affianced were the least happy in the room?_

“Will you not speak to me? Before we are to be parted for a whole fortnight?” He begged.

“Thorin,” You sat back with exasperation, “It is not too late.”

“Too late?” He pondered.

“To find a dam you think not so inept,” You hissed, “One better suited to rule your people.”

“Don’t talk like that. There is none more suitable than you.”

“Your own father will not attend our wedding and I’ve heard the whispers of the Erebor dwarves. My people are good enough to foster you in your time of need, but not good enough to marry.”

“Don’t listen to them,” His nose grazed your cheek as he leaned closer, “Please. They do not speak for me. No other dam could be my queen. I’d rather a lifetime of loneliness…please, forgive me. Our separation should be mournful enough.”

You looked to him, tilting your head a pursing your lips. His blue eyes were desperate and reflected your own fear. “I am not mad with you. Only myself,” You confessed, “I may not be as strong as you think me.”

“Stronger,” He assured, taking your hand in his and raising it to his lips to kiss, “My love.”

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder, twining your fingers in him. “These two weeks will be horrid without you.”

“I know, but they should be over quickly,” He sounded less than certain, “The wait will be worth it.”

You sat up, breaking from your grief to look over the hall of dwarves. None had noticed your lover’s quarrel and you were relieved. It was best not to stir misgivings before a royal wedding. Oh Mahal,  _royal_. It really was hitting you all at once.

You heard a familiar trill. Raina’s laugh had always been unique; high-pitched but melodic. As of late, she had been happier and had lived up to her apology. You were gladdened to have your sister back.

She was sat with your mother and father, as well as Dis and Vinor, and her ceremonial counterpart. Thorin had chosen one of his oldest friends for his place of honour. Dwalin had served alongside Thorin in the campaign that had lost him his brother and the two of them had known each other since they had fled Erebor.

He was a crass dwarf with an overgrown mohawk and brutish tattoos. He was the exact opposite of your sister and yet, he had her laughing like a child. You were surprised to see them get on as she had complained of him at first. He was too rough, too crude. But here she was, giggling over his every word, and he seemed just as fond as her.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Thorin mused, “The two of them.”

“You really think they like each other? Like that?”

“Dwalin is…not the most sociable dwarf. That Raina is getting more than a grunt from him assures me of it.” Thorin chuckled, “I might be oblivious at time, but Dwalin is made of stone.”

“I just hope they take it slow,” You grumbled, “I can’t take another wedding.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” He scoffed, “Dwalin will take all the time in the world…”

* * *

The day had come. Your house was filled with too many dams and you were stuck in a damned chair. Dis and Raina has been pinning your hair for more than an hour and you about to break their combs in half.

“Can’t I just wear it down?” You grumbled, “I think it’d be better if you could see my courting braid.”

“Oh, you can see it,” Raina assured, jabbing another pin painfully into your scalp, “Almost done.”

“I swear, Raina, if you do that again…”

Finally, the aforementioned end had come. You were allowed to rise but before you could stretch your legs, Dis was strapping you into a corset. You were certain she would break your ribs as your mother and sister held you in place by your arms. You weren’t sure Thorin was worth all this.

When you were finally in your gown, you weren’t comfortable enough to be relieved. You merely wanted to be done with the whole affair. The only thought keeping you going was Thorin. It had been a whole fortnight and you would finally get to see him again. Even spend the rest of your lives together.

You were led from your house, preceded by an entire train of dams. Dis and Raina were just ahead of you, their arms hooked through your mother’s. Your father was the only one at your side and you held his hand tightly. You squeezed it more and more the closer you got to your destination.

You and Thorin had chosen to marry outside. A large field had been clipped and pruned, tables set up across the expanse and an altar in the center. When the ceremony was over, guest would take their seats and their meal would be served. Your only request had been for simple day.

You looked to your father as you saw the flowered arch above the heads of the parade. You were almost there. His grey hair was combed back, his braids freshly done. His beard was as finely groomed and he smiled wider than ever. As he turned to you, you felt tears prick at your eyes.

“Ada,” You breathed. The moment was suddenly bittersweet. You had found the love of your life but you would have to leave your family behind.

“Oh, dear,” He reached up to touch your cheek with his free hand, “Don’t cry. You’ll still be my best smith.”

“I know, but…” You swallowed, willing away your tears, “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’ll still see me,” He promised, “Every day. You’ll still be my daughter, girl, and I’ll always be your ada.”

“I know,” You clung to him as you passed under the archway, the altar not far as the crowd dispersed into rows, ready to watch the ceremony.

Thorin stood in wait, Dwalin at his shoulder and the curate at his other. His dark hair had grown a few inches since you had shorn it and his beard just as much. He was starting to look once more like the dwarf who had first appeared at your stall. You smiled, your cheeks aching for how wide it was, and you felt your body go numb.

He was right. The wait had been worth it. He was to be your husband and you were ready to be his wife. Nothing else mattered as long as you had each other.

* * *

The moon shone down as you finally descended from the table. Many had begun to diffuse; many intoxicated, exhausted from dancing, and others sleepy from and excess of food. Thorin helped you onto the grass, your heels sinking in awkwardly. He guided you away from the crowd, avoiding the never ending wellwishers.

“Come on,” He whisked you to the next street, “Before they see us.”

He pulled you into an alley as a group of drunkards passed, loudly belching and laughing. You were pressed against him, his warmth warding off the cool night air. You felt his nose nuzzle your hair and looked up, meeting his lustrous eyes with a gasp.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered, “Have I told you that?”

“It’s the only thing you’ve said to me all night,” You giggled, “But thank you.”

“Two weeks,” He shook his head, “I was about to give up.”

“Oh, don’t be a sap,” You touched his cheek, “We’re together now and forever.”

“Amralime,” He leaned down and kissed you. His arms closed around you and he spun you around so that you were against the wall, crushing you in his fervour.

“So, husband,” You said as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath, “Do I get to see our home?”

As was expected, Thorin had built a home in the months before his wedding. It had afforded you more time in the forge but less with him. And, as tradition would have it, you had yet to see his work.

“My wife,” He slung his arm around your waist, coping a feel along your bottom. You laughed and he chuckled in return.

He led you to the other end of the alley and along the winding streets. You stopped only a street away from your father’s house, gasping at the structure which you had failed to notice in your frequent strolls along that road. 

Its small porch had flowers planted along its base, a wide door stood centre with an arching top. The windows were perfectly round and the upper floor was lined with a broad balcony. It was not the largest house, but it was more than you could have hope for. Quaint was much better than grand.

“There’s a maple tree in the backyard,” He announced, “So that you can still make syrup. And a plot for you to garden. There is no forge…yet. I should like to continue at your father’s for the time being until…”

“Until we must have one of our own,” You finished for him, ridding yourself of the grim reality, “You can show me more in the daylight.” You hugged him to you as you stared up at your new home. “Let us enjoy our wedding night.”

“You’ll brook no argument with me,” He turned and scooped you up in his arms, carrying you up the steps as you squealed in surprise, “To bed, my wife. To bed!”


	5. Out of the Blue

 

The shadows of the forge suddenly shifted. You and Thorin had been working diligently for hours while your father rested for the day. You had become more adamant in keeping him from overworking himself. In the year since you had married, you had watched him regain some strength but he still betrayed his age. You knew that one day he would no longer be able to lift his hammer. A day when he would be gone from you.

You turned, the sun was high through the small window. Noon had come and the forge had grown stifling. Thorin’s hammer was leaned against his anvil and he untied his leather apron with a yawn. “Quitting already?” You asked as you lowered your own tool, “It seems I have two old dwarves to pick up after these days.”

“Hmmp,” He scoffed and tilted his head, “Well, wife, if you must now, I have another matter to attend to this day but I should be back in an hour.”

“Oh?” You turned your hammer in your hand, “And I am just hearing of this now?”

“It must have flown my mind. Last night when I arrived home, I had forgotten my own name at the sight of my beloved in not but her shift. I can picture it now, the bucket beside you and brush in your hand as you scrubbed the floor boards. I could see clean through the front of your chemise.” He teased.

“Thorin,” You poked his nose playfully, “You have remembered now so tell me what calls you from your work?”

“I ran into Dwalin last night on the road home from Dis’,” He explained, his hands coming up around your neck as he cradled your chin, “He was...unlike himself. Flighty, almost. Could barely return my greeting. There is something weighing on his mind. He wants to meet for a pint and speak.”

“Do you have any idea of what?” You asked.

“He didn’t say but I suspect I do,” He smiled, “You might be able to guess at it.”

“...Raina,” You chuckled, “She is in her own little trance of late. Has he not yet asked for her hand?”

“Dwalin? You think he has the courage to do it upon his own whim? He would slice an orc from scalp to hell but when he sees your sister, he cowers.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, “There’s something in your blood, gets the best of us Erebor dwarves.” He pressed his lips to yours, laying a drawn out kiss upon them.

“Perhaps your ilk lack self-restraint,” You taunted as he pulled away.

“Well, I aim to set his head straight,” Thorin’s hand lingered on your cheek, “Your sister should have a bead upon her courting braid by the end of the week.”

“She would be delighted,” You commented, “Oh, and before I forget, how is  _your_  sister? I’ve not seen her as late. I’ve heard that she had been constrained by her recent condition.”

“She is well and glowing,” Thorin smiled, “Growing rounder by the day. You should see her little cheeks, so rosy and full. She reminds me of the girl she once was.”

“Good, good,” You sighed.

“She did say she was craving one of your walnut tarts, however,” He said, “I think it was more a request than anything.”

“I could bring her one tonight after work,” You assured him, “My mother says she will have yearnings mightier than any dwarrow. And I do miss her.”

“Do bring an extra one for Vinor or he won’t get a slice of it,” Thorin released his hair from its tie and smooth it with his fingers. It had grown to his shoulders and his beard was fuller than before. He was almost the same dwarf he had been those years ago when you had met.

“I will,” You said as you set down your hammer and stretched out your shoulders. You saw as Thorin’s eyes strayed to your midriff, trying to see through the leather of your apron. You tried not to show that you noticed. As of late, you had caught his hopeful gaze upon your unchanging figure. “Now off with you. I have work to do still. Much more since your little luncheon date.”

“I do love you so,” He grinned and pecked your forehead, “I shall return, my wife.”

“And I shall ever be waiting on you, husband,” You returned as he turned to the door. You watched him go through the small window and retrieved your hammer. Clanging filled the air once more and you let it drown out your worries.

* * *

 

Thorin returned later than he had promised but swore to make up lost time while you visited Dis. You selected two tarts from your mother’s pantry, pausing to chatter with her and Raina, the latter floating around dreamily. You smirked knowingly at her. You hoped Thorin had talked some courage into Dwalin. All your sister had ever dreamed of was love and she could have asked for no better dwarrow to call her One.

The streets were bustling as you made your way along the cobbles. Dis and Vinor had moved into a house near to your own but much of the time she spent at her father’s home. He had grown seclusive since his eldest son’s death and bitter. He welcomed his daughter but only growled when Thorin visited. It made you sad to watch the father and son. Your husband always left in a cloud; reminded of the brother he had lost and his father that was as good as gone.

You stopped outside Dis’ door and knocked, a muffled welcome came from within. You entered, balancing the pies against your hip as you found your sister-in-law in her front room. She was sat on a cushioned chair, her feet propped up on a matching ottoman. Her middle had grown since you had last seen her and her face was indeed fuller. Her hand rested on her stomach, the other holding a book open as she read.

“I heard you were in need of some treats,” You greeted her. She was a rather regal even in pregnancy. Her dark hair shining even brighter and thicker than before. She shared her brother’s sparkling blue eyes and they looked up at you hopefully.

“Y/N,” She smiled, closing her book, “I do, indeed.”

“Please, stay,” You kept her from rising, “I’ll set them on the counter for you.”

“Thank you,” She leaned back, adjusting herself in the chair with a grunt. You placed the tarts in her kitchen and returned, sitting upon the chaise next to her. She was holding her stomach lovingly. “I think I should call my son, Fili...In honour of Frerin and my husband’s father, Bili.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?” You asked with a quirk of your lips.

“I don’t know, I just...have a sense,” She shrugged. Her eyes looked you up and down as she turned to you. “You and Thorin…”

“No, no,” You shook your head, almost a bit too emphatically. You were tired of thinking of it. Your husband was obviously awaiting an announcement but there was none to be made. He hadn’t said anything of his hopes but it was plain enough. His sister had only married shortly before you and she had quickly conceived. Both of you were too shy to confront the other; him afraid of disappointment and you afraid of letting him down. “Not yet.”

“It’ll happen,” She reached out, her fingers grazing your hand, “Patience. For dams it can take years. I was fortunate.”

“I know,” You pursed your lips. You didn’t want to have this conversation and you had dreaded it for most of the day. “Truly, I am not worried as of yet. Me and Thorin have only been married a year and we have many ahead of us.”

“Mmmm,” She grinned, “And you two…?”

“Dis, he’s your brother, I do not want to speak of that with you. And I am certain he’d not like you asking about it.”

“Oh, so he _is_  a fiend,” She giggled, “I would expect it. The way he looks at you. I remember--oh, he would hate me for telling you this.”

“Telling me what?”

“Well, the day he had first gone to your father and started working with him, he came home and…” She touched her chin as she thought back, “I knew something had happened then. When we had lost the Mountain, he had grown so somber, but I actually saw him smile. I thought it was the prospect of his new work but when I had figured out that the dam from the pie stall was the forger’s daughter, well, it wasn’t hard to surmise the true reason.”

“Really?” You were almost blushing, “I had thought he hated me that first day. He had been so quiet.”

“I daresay it was because he was enamoured with you,” She trilled, “Oh, but look at you two now. I’m only glad he got past that shyness.”

“And now he is giving love advice to Dwalin,” You mused.

“Ah?” She raised her eyebrows.

“He met with him today and thinks he has convinced him to finally propose to Raina,” You announced, “But we shall see if that oaf can keep his nerve.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t trust Thorin as a great authority on the heart,” She said, “My dear, I am so sorry, but I can smell the tart from here. Could I trouble you to fetch me a slice?”

“No trouble at all,” You stood with a chuckle, “If only for my future nephew.”

* * *

 

When you got home, Thorin was waiting. He was in the backyard sitting on the back steps. The sun was setting and his eyes clung to horizon; rocky crags and trees rippling across the landscape. The door was open, the evening breeze setting a chill throughout the house. You came up behind him quietly and sat next to him. He put his hand on your knee in greeting but said nothing.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked as he stared at your yard.

“About building a forge just over there,” He pointed to the far corner, “Not right away but...when your father is retired. We’ll have to move it here so our children can take up the craft, too.”

You ignored his comment about children, placing your hand atop his. “That’s a long way off, still.” You looked at his profile, shadowed by the looming night. “There must be something more on your mind than our garden.”

His lips twitched and he slipped his hand from beneath yours, slinging his arm over your shoulders and pulling you against him. “There is more but I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Why? Is it a surprise?” You asked playfully

“Mmm, in a sense,” He answered pensively, “And not really my own.”

“If it’s a secret, I don’t need to know,” You said, resting your head against his shoulder.

“It is but I don’t know if I can keep it. I can barely process it,” He mulled, “If I tell, will you promise not to say a word?”

“On our marriage, I promise, Thorin Oakenshield,” You vowed, playing with the hem of his tunic.

“Well…” He exhaled, “You know I spoke with Dwalin today. I had expected him to be wanting to ask for your sister’s hand--”

“And?” You felt your heart seize. Raina would be heartbroken if Dwalin changed his mind.

“He does. Or he already did but he hasn’t exactly told your, um, parents,” Thorin explained anxiously, “I guess he asked a month ago when he, uh, found out.”

“Found out what?” You froze, stiffening against his shoulder.

“That he is to be a father,” Thorin said in a stunted manner as if the words were difficult to pronounce, “That Raina is to be a mother.”

“What?” You pulled away, gaping at your husband, “Oh, Thorin. They need to tell my parents right away.”

“I said the same but...Dwalin thinks your father is going to murder him.”

“Dwalin is afraid of my father?” You frowned, “How--Look, my father and mother are far from prudish. The wedding would be rushed but it won’t be an issue. Why we had found ourselves in the same position, it wouldn’t have made a difference at all.”

“If we had...” Thorin grumbled, looking away grimly. You wrinkled your brow as you realized he was avoiding your gaze.

Silence thickened the air and you separated from your husband, standing from the steps as you paced across the grass before him. You turned on him. “You can say it,” You snapped, “You think I’m barren.” You crossed your arms, “But we are only a year into our marriage and it takes most dams tenfold to conceive. You’ve not even given me a chance.”

“Y/N, it’s not that--”

“Shall our love crumble because my womb does not quicken at once?” You retorted.

“My love,” He stood and crossed to you, taking your hands in his, “I am only impatient, not disappointed. Both our sisters have been blessed and I suppose, well, I am jealous. Forgive me, it is a cursed trait of my bloodline. I can wait,  _will_ wait. You are all I need.”

“I’m trying,” You said meekly, “You know we both are.”

“Do I ever,” His lips curled slightly, “So...why don’t we try tonight?”

“And if we fail?” You countered.

“Then we’ll try every night until it takes,” He leaned in, his breath hot on your skin, “As many times a night as it takes.” You smiled and kissed him, trying to hide your trembling. Try, try, and try again. You only hoped your perseverance would pay off.

* * *

 

It was the day before market. Your father and Thorin were working the forge and you were in the kitchen helping your sister and mother with baking. You were placing crusts into pans when the knock sounded. As you crimped the edge of the pastry, your mother pulled open the front door and returned with an unexpected guest. Raina turned pale.

“Y/N,” Your mother chimed; blissfully ignorant, “Would you go fetch your father? Master Dwalin should like to see him.”

You looked to Raina as you nodded and she met your eyes in realization. She knew you knew. You gave her a reassuring smile and hurried through the back door. You knocked on the forge before you entered, the small space stolid. Your father wiped his forehead and stilled his hammer. Thorin was slow to stop.

“Ada,” You said, almost breathless, “You’ve a visitor.”

“A visitor? Now?” He grunted, “Ugh, company never arrives when they’re welcome but they’ll bother me when I least want them.”

“Just come, please,” You pleaded, “You look like you need a break.”

“You worry too much for me, daughter,” He chided, “You should fret over your husband, I’ve my own wife to hound me.”

You rolled your eyes and watched him toss aside his hammer. It was a big show on his part. He was too cheery to truly be upset. Thorin raised a brow as he neared. “Who is it?”

“Dwalin,” You kept your voice low and shared a knowing look.

“Should we join them?” He asked.

“Maybe we should just wait in the yard,” You offered.

“Hopefully the door is open,” He japed.

“I didn’t know you liked drama, otherwise I’d bring you to market more often,” You chuckled as you led him out of the forge.

You stood close the house, just below the kitchen window, but careful not to be too obvious. Voices rose from within but words were not entirely clear. Yet, you knew what the conversation was about.

“Raina!” Your mother screeched, a mixture of shock and disapproval.

“You little bastard,” Your father boomed but he sounded completely amused, “I should’ve known.”

You hesitantly neared the door and peeked inside. Your father pulled Dwalin to him and clapped him on the back as your mother shook her head at Raina as she sobbed into her hands. You could see the small bump just beneath her apron.

“Well then, it looks like we’ve another wedding on our hands,” You father declared, “I knew having two daughters would be expensive.”

“Ada,” Raina cried out mortified.

“You  _are_  going to marry my daughter, ya rascal?”

“Course I am,” Dwalin replied, nearing Raina gently and drawing her to him. He cooed to calm her as he kept his eyes on the older dwarf. “I shoulda asked her before all this mess but I was...a fool.”

You exhaled, not realizing you had been holding your breath. You looked back to Thorin who was grinning at the scene. He pulled you away from the door and hugged you to him. “I remember how nervous I was to ask your father. The thought was even more terrifying than war. That whole campaign all I could think was that I would come back only for your father to cut me down in paternal honour.”

“Really? You thought of me in all of that?”

“I couldn’t stop,” He rested his chin on top of your head, “You’re the only thing that kept me going.”

* * *

 

There was a banging at your door. You lifted your head slowly from atop Thorin’s chest. You were bare but for the blanket spread across the pair of you. You heard it again and rolled over, your husband snoring heartily despite the ruckus. You wrapped yourself in a robe and found your way down the stairs and to the front hallway. Vinor was about to rap again when you opened the door.

“It’s Dis, the child’s coming,” He sputtered, the beads at the end of his golden braids rattling in his panic.

“Oh,” You rubbed your eyes, trying to wake up, “Okay, um…” You readjusted your robe so it didn’t slip open, “I’ll send Thorin with you and fetch my mother. She’ll know what to do.”

“Right, right,” His voice rose another octave, “That sounds like a plan.” He wrung his hands as you waved him inside.

“She’s fine, Vinor, wait here,” You went back up the stair, nearing Thorin’s side of the bed and sitting on the edge.

You nudged his shoulder and called to him. He groaned and on the third shake his eyes opened halfway. He grinned and purred at you, “Ready to try again already?”

“Not now,” You poked his chest, “Your sister is in labour.”

“My sis--” He shot up, “Oh, Mahal!”

You stood as he rose, stark naked and made for the door. You stopped him before he could race down the stairs. “Thorin, you may want to dress before you go out into the streets.”

“Uh,” He looked down, “Yes, that makes sense.”

You tossed him some clothes from his wardrobe and gathered your own. You dressed in harried silence and ushered him down the steps to Vinor who was pacing your front hallway fervently. “Take Vinor back to Dis and I’ll meet you there,” You pecked Thorin’s cheek as you followed them outside, “Keep her breathing steady and keep her calm.”

“Will do,” Thorin had regained his composure but his brother-in-law looked ready to pass out. You skirted away as they set off in the opposite direction, breaking into a run only when they could no longer see you.

* * *

 

Your mother was infuriatingly nonplussed. She was perfectly centered as she dressed and made her way out the door. She walked through the streets as if she was simply out for an evening stroll and when you arrived at Dis’, she stopped to admire her flowers. At last inside, the mood took a swing. Dis could be heard grunting and crying out from the other room.

Your mother ordered around Vinor swiftly; warm water, towels, sheets, stoke the hearth...You approached Thorin who stood outside his sister’s chamber door and took his hand. His face was paled and he looked entirely awake. “She told me to get out,” He said meekly, “It was terrifying.”

You kept yourself from laughing and squeezed his hand. “She doesn’t need us in there, only Vinor and my mother. It’s better if its less crowded.”

You guided him to the couch and sat down. He looked at you and reached out to caress your stomach. “You know, it doesn’t have to happen right away,” He whispered, “I don’t know if I could handle seeing you in that much pain.”

“She’ll be alright, Thorin,” You comforted, “It’s a necessary pain but well worth it.”

As dawn broke outside the window, a lull came over the house. Dis’ cries were replaced with those of a smaller being. The infant did not shriek for long and you waited to meet your new nephew. Your mother emerged to welcome you in shortly, proving Dis had been right about her child. A son. Vinor sat at her side, preening over his newborn.

“He looks just like you, Vinor,” Thorin said as he got closer. The child looked at him and cried out at his dark uncle. “But he’s got that Durin’s temper, I see.”

“Just like you,” Dis said airily, “Just as much a pain, too.”

“Where’s father?” Thorin asked suddenly, “Did someone go to fetch him?”

“I...tried, before I came to get you and he would not answer his door,” Vinor scowled, “Told me to go away.”

“I’ll go get him then. He should be here. This is his first grandchild.” Thorin had turned stony, “He can ignore me all he wants, but not the child.”

“Thorin,” Dis warned, “It can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” He growled, “I’ll be back shortly.”

Thorin stalked off before you could protest. You knew it would be a lost fight. Thrain had grown to despise his second son and they often argued more than anything. You gave Dis a sympathetic smile before following your husband. He needed someone to keep his anger at bay.

“You stay,” He ordered curtly as he opened the front door.

“No, I won’t have you throttling your father on a day such as this,” You hissed.

“He is a stupid old dwarf,” Thorin grimaced as he marched through the streets, “Selfish. We’ve all been mourning yet none of us truly have the right to their grief but him.”

“I know, I know,” You allowed.

Thorin brimmed in silence as he carried on, stopping before his father’s house with a final flare of his nostrils. He stomped up the steps and hammered on the front door. “Get out here, you old donkey.” He called but no answer came. He banged again but was only met with similar disregard. He huffed and grabbed the handle; the door opened easily.

Warily, Thorin entered and you followed tentatively at his heels. The house was eerily silent and dark. No candle or lamp was lit. Even the rising morning light did not pierce the shutters. You went throughout the first floor and then the second yet found nothing but half-eaten plates of food and dusty furniture. Since Dis had left, the house had grown into a sty.

In the old dwarf’s chamber, his bed was empty. A letter was half-crumpled atop the pillow. Thorin crossed and took the parchment, smoothing it out before him. He neared the window and forced it open with a harsh creak. He read in sunlight and swore as the letter dropped from his fingers. He shook his head and turned to the window, staring out solemnly.

“What is it?” You asked as you came closer, kneeling to take the letter from the floorboards.

“My father is gone,” His voice was brittle; sour, “He claims he’s gone to search for Frerin. He’s convinced he’s still alive.” Thorin’s cheek twitched and he sniffed. He wiped his face with his cuff and turned back, his eyes glistening with tears. “My father has gone off to die.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is a possibility that more could be added to this story. It all depends on response, etc. and my own ability to get it written. Thanks so much to all my readers.


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